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DUKE 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 


treasure  %oom 


■•  JiTorch^  1816. 

MODERN  PUBLICATIONS, 

NETr  EDITIONS 

OF 

VALUABLE  STANDARD  WORKS, 

rRlXTEII  TOR 

M.  CAREY,  No.  121,  CHESNUT  STREET, 
PHILADELPHIA. 


VOYAGES,  TRAVELS,    GEOGRAPHY,  AND 
TOPOGRAPHY. 

PERSONAL  NARRATIVE  o;'  Travels  to  tlie  EQUINOCTIAL  TV-" 
GIONS  of  tlie  NEV/  CONTINENT  between  the  vt-ars  1799— l^oi.  Py 
AT  EXANDERDE  HUMBOLDT,  ami  AI.ME  KONPLaND.  Written  iti 
French,  By    ALEXANDER  DE  D  UMBO LDT. 

And  translated  into  English  by  HELEN  MARIA  \V1LUAIMS. 
In  8vo.     Price  250  cents  in  Boards. 

"  Wc  congratnlate  tlio  \iroscnt  age  on  having  prcwhiccd  a  traveller,  armed 
at  all  points,  anrl  completely  accomplished  tor  the  purpose  of  physici', 
moral,  and  political  observation.  In  ^I.  Dr.  Hr^MTiOLnT -we  have^n  astroiio- 
l.ier,  a  physiologist,  a  botanist,  one  versed  in  statistics,  and  political  econo- 
aiy ;  a  metiiphysicinn,  an  antiquary,  and  a  learned  jjlnloloj.^  .t — possessing 
at  the  same  tirae  the  enlai"ge<l  views,  the  spirit,  and  the  U  .<  of  true  phi- 
losophy. This  assemblage  of  ac<inircmcnts,  so  seldom  found  in  the  same 
individual,  is  in  lum  a<;conipaniefl  vith  the  most  indefatigable  activity  ;  v.  .■> 
the  zeal,  the  enterprise,  and  the  vigour  which  are  necessary  to  give  them 
their  full  effect.'-      Edinburgh  Jfev.  A'ov.  ISH. 

TRAVELS  in  the  INTERIOR  of  BRAZIL;  prececded  by  an  account 
of  a  voya^'  tothe  Riode  la  Plata.  By  JOHN  MAWE, 

Author  of  a  Treatise  on  the  Mineralogy  of  Derbyshire.  In  1  vol.  8vo.  illus- 
wated  with  plutes,  and  a  map. 

The  principal  part  of  tliis  work  relates  to  theintei-ior  of  Brazil,  vherc 
no   Englishman  was  ever   before    permitted  to  travel,    and  particularly  to 

♦  he  Gold  and  Diamond  districts,  which  he  investig;ited  by  J)rder  (>f  tlie 
I'rince  Regent  of  Portugal.     P'rom  the  high  sanctior.  muler  which  he  began 

♦  h''  nndertaking,  and  the  length  of  time  he  devoted  to  it,  his  narrative  may 
he  expected  to  throw  considerable  light  on  a  rich  and  extensive  colony, 
hitherto  little  explored,  and  at  ju'esent  higidy  interesting. 

"Of  the  knowh-dge,   sagacity,  skill  and  experience  of  this  aiithor  ns  a 
mi.ioralogist,  we  l];ive  before  hud  the  most  honourat)ie  tenliniony,  and  this 
pni''.  JctiOM  cannot  fail  to    add   considerably   to  his   r  f'tUation.     Ir  has  iilro 
iiiuuh  of  tiic  recommendation  of  novelty,  for  the  state  of  the  mines  of  Bra - 
•.  il,  and  of  the  agriculture  of  the  couniiy,  has  hitherto  been  very  imp  i 
fectl-  known  ;    there  is  also-i)erhaps  in  '.his  volume,  the  most  s;tti!sfacti>ri. 
r.ccouLit  'vhich  we  have   hitherto  had,  of  the  unfortunate  i  \pi-ditiou  agaii.- 
Bnenos  Ayres,  by  General  Whitelocke,  and  the  causi  s  of  i;s  failure  ar<'  iio 
partinlly  delailei!,  and  perspicnOMsly  explained:  altogetlier  we  con.sider  !li^ 
work  Kb  a  vaUiable  ailditioii  to  our   tceograjthical  colli ciions,  and  m</e  \i;\. 

\ 


M.        PRIXTED   I'OR  M.  CAREY,  PHlLADELPfflA. 

-.any  acceptable,  as  exhibiting  what  has  not  yet  appeared  in  any  En- 
glisli  publication,  a  scientific  account  of  the  diamond  mines  and  diamond 
works  of  tiiis  part  of  South  America."  British  Critic,  J\ine,  1813. 

AN  ACCOUNT  of  a  VOYA(.E  to  ABYSSINIA,  and  TRAVELS  in 
the^  INTERIOR  of  that  COUNTRY,  executed  under  the  orders  of  the 
British  government,  in  the  years  1809  and  1810";    in  which  are  inchided  an 
account  of  the    PORTUGUESE  SETTLEMENTS   on  the  EASTERN 
COAST  of  AFRICA,  visited  in  fhe  course  of  the  voyage  ;    a  concise  sum- 
mary of  late  occurrences  in  Arabia   Felix  ;    and  some  particulars  respect- 
ing the  Abori^nal  African  Tribes,    extending  from  Mozambtquc    to  the 
borders  of  Egypt,  together  with  vocabularies  of  their  respective  Inngiiages, 
By  HENRY  SALT,  Esq.  F.  R.  S.  &c. 
In  1  vol.  8vo.  with  a  Map  of  Abyssinia. 
(In  the  press,  and  will  be  published  in  May.) 

"  Mr.  Salt  was  already  known  to  the  public  as  the  companion  of  Lord 
Valentia,  in  his  Eastern  Travels,  and  this  account  ot  a  new  voyage  to  Abys- 
sinia lias  exalted  and  established  his  reputation  as  a  sensible  traveller,  an 
elegant  writer,  and  an  able  draughtsman."  Monthly  JMagazine. 

A  JOURNEY  through  PERSIA,  ARMENIA  and  ASIA  MINOR,  to 
CONSTANTINOPLE,  in  the  years  1808  and  1809,  in  which  is  included 
tome  account  of  the  proceedings  of  HIS  MAJE.STY'S   MISSION   under 
SIR  HARFORD  JONES,  Bart.  K.  C.  to  the  Court  of  the  King  of  Pei-sia. 
By  JAMES  MORIER, 
His  Alajesty's  Secretary  of  Embassy  to  the  Court  of  Persia. 
In  ]  vol,  8vo.  with  plates,  and  a  Map. 
(In  the  press,  and  will  be  published  in  April.) 
•'  In  the  elegant  work  of  Mr.  Morier,  we  have  an  interesting  report  of  the 
last  of  the  English  Embassies,  under  Sir  Harford  Jones.    As  Persia  has  not 
been  described  by  an  Englishman  since  the  civil  wars  that  followed  the  usui*- 
pation  of  Nadir  Shah,  our  curiosity  was  powerfully  excited  by  the  ar.ounce- 
ment  of  Mr.  Morier's  work;    and  wc  can   unreservcdh"  declai-e  that  in  its 
perusal,  we  have  been  abundantly  gratified."     Monthly  JMn^iiziiie,  1813. 

'•  The  work  before  us  is  one  of  those  which  requires  little  recommen- 
dation,— for  the  respectable  situation  in  hfe,  and  important  office  of  Mr, 
Morier  in  the  Embassy,  sets  the  mind  at  perfect  rest  as  to  the  authenti- 
city of  the  facts  related  ;  and  the  modern  state  of  Persia  being  but  slightly 
known  to  us,  we  naturally  feel  an  eager  desire  to  read  and  be  informed." 

Gentleman' s  Maffuzine. 
•'Mr.  Morier  possesses  spirit,  activity  and  intelligence  ;  together  with  an 
eager  desire  of  acquiring  information,  and  truth  and  judgment  in  directing 
his  attention  to  the  most  deserving  objects.  Critical  Review. 

A  TOUR  THROUGH  ITALY,  exhibiting  a  view  of  its  SCENERY, 
its  ANTIQUITIES,  and  its  MONUMENTS  ;  particularly  as  they  are  OB- 
JECTS  of  CLASSICAL  INTEREST  and  ELUCIDATION  :  with  an  ac 
count  of  the  present  state  of  its  Cities  and  Towns  ;  and  occasional  obser- 
vations On  the  recent  spoliations  of  the  French. 

By  the  Rev.  JOHN  CHETWODE  EUSTACE. 
In  2  vols.  8vo.  with  plates. 
(In  the  press,  and  will  be  published  in  May.) 
*'  This  is  one  of  the  best  books  of  travels  that  has  apjieared  since  we  be- 
gan our  labours."        Ed.  Rev.  A'o.  XLII.  p.  S'S. 

"  Mr.  Eustace  is  endowed  with  uU  the  natural  and  acquired  gifts  and  ad- 
vantages, which  fitted  him  for  intimately  knowing  Italy  and  Italians." 

Moiiihlij  Revieiv,  Feb.  p.  114, 


VOYAGES,  TRAVELS,  GEOGR  WHY,  kt.         S 

•'*  Ills  religious  sentiments  and  political  principles  are  equally  liberal." 

Qiiartei'h/  Jitn>if-.c,  Ao.  XJX.  p.  2-23. 

"His  description  of  local  scenery  is  unrivalled."  Crit.  liev.  Afav,  fi.iQ. 

"His  classical  taste  displays  itself  vvitli  peculiar  advantage  and  uncomuion 
iVlieity."     Quai'toii/  lievie~'v,  »\o.  Jf/X. //. '241. 

"  His  style  is  pure  and  flowing."     British  Critic,  .Iprit,  p.  399. 

"  Tiiis  is  a  work  that  no  pprfion  projecting  a  tour  to  Italy  can  hereafter  be 
V,  it  bout."    British  Revie-.i-,  .Vo.  X.  p.  Sm. 

"It  is  a  manual  and  guide  to  the  wliolc  country;  all  Mr.  Eustace's  read- 
ing, all  his  inquiries,  all  his  ende.avours,  api)e;a- to  lia\e  iK'on  devoted  to 
the  study  of  this  glorious  theatre  of  ancient  and  mmlcrn  exploits  ;  his  vigi- 
lance is  ever  on  tbe  alert ;  his  reasoning  is  unobstrncted  by  prejudice  ;  and 
his  work  will  improve  the  heart,  while  it  interests  the  umlerstanding  " 

.'l/o?:.  n,'v.p.  116. 

"  Ttie  ])hilosopher,  the  poet,  and  the  orator,  may  alike  profit  by  the  re- 
flections, the  descriptions,  and  the  style  with  which  tbis  elegant  Totu'ist  has 
adorned  and  eni-iched  his  comniiinicatious."     IJrit.  Jii'v.  ji'o.  X.  p.  391. 

CAREY'S  GENERAL  ATLAS,  improved.  Being  a  collection  of  MAPS 
of  the  WOULD  and  QUARTERS,  their  Kingdoms,  Sf.tes,  8:c.  contain- 
ing fifty-eight  folio  Maps,  handsomely  coloured.  1.  Tlie  AA'orld  ;  2.  ditto. 
Mercator's  priijecUon  ;  3.  North  America  ;  4.  The  British  Possessions  in 
America  ;  5.  The  United  States  ;  6.  Vermont ;  7.  New-Ha\npshiro  ;  8. 
Maine;  9.  Massachusetts  ;  10.  Rhale-Island  ;  H.  Connecticut ;  12.  New- 
York  ;  13.  New-Jersey;  li.  Pennsylvania  ;  15.  Delaware  ;  16.  Maryland  j 
17.  Virginia,  18.  North-Carolina;  19.  South-Carolina;  20.  Georgia  ;  21. 
Kentucky;  22.  Tennessee;  23.  The  Mississippi  Tenilory  ;  24.  Ohio  ;  25. 
The  North  Western,  Michig-an,  Illinois,  and  Indiana  Territories  ;  26.  The 
State  of  Louisiana  ;  27.  The  Missouri  TerriloiT^ ;  28.  Seven  Ratiges  of  Town- 
ships laid  out  by  Congress  ;  29.  Mexico  ;  30.  The  West  Indfes ;  31.  The 
French  part  of  St.  Domingo;  32.  South  America  ;  33.  Caracas  ;  34.  Pern  ; 
35.  Cliih  and  the  vice-royalty  of  La  Plata  ;  36.  Brazil ;  37.  Europe  ;  38.  Swe- 
den, Denmark,  and  Norway  ;  39.  Russia  ;  40.  Scotland  ;  41.  England  and 
Wales  ;  42.  Ireland  ;  43.  United  Provinces  and  Netherlands  ;  44.  (Germany  ; 
45.  France,  divided  itito  Departments  ;  46.  Hungary  and  Turkey  in  Europe  ; 
47.  Spain  and  Portugal ;  48.1t,aly;  49.  Switzerland  ;  50.  Poland  ;  51.  Asia; 
52.  China  ;  53.  Hindostan  ;  54.  Islands  and  Cbannels  b'Mw  een  China  and  New 
Holland;  55.  New  South  Wales,  viith  Norfolk  Island,  Lord  Howe's  l.slaiid, 
I'ort  Jackson,  &c. ;  56.  Africa;  57.  Countnes  round  the  Norlli  Pole;  58. 
Captain  Cook's  Discoveries. 

Price  15  dollars,  handsomely  half  bound. 

SKETCHES,  HISTORICAL  and  DESCRIPTIVE,  of  LOUISIANA 
By  Major  AMOS  STODDARD,  Member  of  the  U.  S.  M.  P.  S. 

and  of  the  New  York  Hist  Oilcal  Society. 
In  8vo.  Price  3  dollars,  in  boards. 

"  This  volume  is  divided  into  fourteen  cliapters,  comprehending  the  Jiis- 
toi-y  (if Louisiana  and  tbe  Floiidas  ;  their  geography,  government,  laws, 
coinmet'ce,  and  manufactures,  learning  and  religion.  The  character  of  (he 
Louisianians,  the  state  of  slavery  amongst  tlitn),  the  antiquities,  the  rivers, 
and  mineral  riches  of  that  country  ;  a  dci^ciiption  of  the  aborigines,  and  tlie 
arguments  in  favour  of  the  conjecture  that  this  country  was  settled  by  emi- 
gration from  W'ales,  anterior  to  the  discovery  of  Cohnnbus,  eonchide  the 
volume. 

"  The  style,  although  it  assumes  the  character  of  humble  narrative,  is 
jiure  and  chaste,  and  vve  cordially  cougi-atidate  the  author  on  the  hardihood 
of  character  he  has  assumed,  for  such  undoubtedly  it  i.s,  in  the  present  day, 
to  be  so  unclassical  as  to  write  •ommon  sense.    He  shows  lumsel(to  be  a 


!/ 


4  PRINTED  FOR  M.  CAREY,  PHlLADELPmA. 

master  of  Uie  materials  that  he  manages,  and,  while  conversing  with  his 
page,  we  have  found  ourselves  seated  -with  him  by  the  side  of  solitary  riv- 
ers, plunging  into  the  glooms  of  inextricable  wildernesses,  or  climbing  the 
heights  of  desart  mountains,  instead  of  foigctting  all  these  and  admiring  the 
brilliancy  of  a  paragi-aph.  We  wished  to  explore  the  regions  of  Louisia- 
na :  and  bv  the  light  of  his  lamp  we  have  explored  them."      Port  Folio. 

TRAVELS  THROUGH  THE  CANADAS,  containing  a  description  of 
the  pictures(iue  scenery  of  some  of  the  Rivers  and  Lflkes,  with  an  account 
ol  the  Productions,  Commerce  and  Inhabit  mts  of  those  Pr'ovinces. 
BY  GEORGE  HERIOT,  ESQ. 
In  12mo.    Price  1  dollar,  in  boards. 
"  Altogether  we  deem  it  one  of  Uie  most  cui'ious  publications  that  has  of 
late  appeared."  Jfonthli/  J^■Iap■. 

A  VOYAGE  TO  THE  DEAIERARY,  containing  a  statistical  account  of 
the  settlements  there,  and  of  those  on  the  Essequebo,  the  Berbice,  and  other 
ceatiguous  Rivers  of  Guyana.  By  HENRY  BOLINGBROKE  Esq. 

In  8vo.     Price  150  cents  in  boaixls. 

THE  STRANGER'S  GUIDE  through  PHILADELPHIA,  containing 
a  plan  of  the  City,  with  an  alphabetical  list  of  all  liie  Squares,  Sti'ects,  Roads, 
Lanes,  AUevs,  Avenues,  Courts,  Ship-Yards,  Public  Buildings  inc.  in  tho 
City  and  Subuibs.  By  JOHN  ADEMS  PAXTON. 

In  12mo.     Price  150  cents,  handsomely  half  bound. 

CAREY'S  AMERICAN  POCKET  ATLAS,  containing  23  Maps,  riz.  1. 
Vnited  States ;  2.  Vermont ;  3.  New-Hampshire  ;  4.  Maine  ;  5.  Massachu- 
setts; 6.  Rhode-Island  ;  7.  Connecticut ;  8.  New-Yoik;  9.  New-Jersey  ;  10. 
Pennsylvania  ;  11.  Delaware  ;  12.  Ohio;  13.  Maryland  ;  14.  Virginia  ;  15.  Ken- 
tucky ;  16.  North-Carolina  ;  17.  Tennessee  ;  18.  South-Carolina;  19.  Geor- 
sfia  ;  20.  Mississippi  Territory  ;  21.  Upper  Territories  of  the  United  States; 
22.  Louisiana  ;  23.  Missouri  Territory.  With  a  BRIEF  DESCRIPTION 
of  each  STATE  and  TERRITORY.  Also  the  Census  of  the  Inliabitants 
of  the  United  States  for  1810,  and  the  Exports  for  20  years. 

4th.  edition,  greatly  improved  and  enlarged.     Price  2  dollars,  bound. 

"  Much  useful,  geograpliical,  and  miscellaneous  information  is  compressed 
into  this  pocket  volume,  and  with  the  Maps  it  will  be  found  a  very  convenient 
book  for  persons  in  general,  and  more  particulariy  for  those  who  are  travel- 
ling in  the  United  States.  It  is  well  printed,  and  the  maps  are  neatly  exe- 
cuted." .American  Beviev)  and  Literary  Journal. 

THE  AMERICAN  MINOR  ATLAS  ;  4to.  containing  the  same  Maps 
as  the  preceding.        Pi-ice  150  cents,  half  bound. 

SCRIPTURE  ATLAS,  containing  10  4to.  -Maps,  viz.  1.  Journeyings of 
the  Children  of  Israel  from  Rameses  to  the  Land  of  Promise  ;  2.  Map  of  Ca- 
naan as  promised  to  Abraham  and  his  posterity  ;  3.  Map  of  Egj'pt ;  4.  Map 
of  the  places  recorded  in  the  five  Books  of  Moses  ;  5.  Map  of  Canaan  in  the 
time  of  Joshua;  6.  Map  of  the  purveyorships  in  the  Reign  of  Solomon; 
7.  Syria  and  Assyria  ;  8.  Map  of  the  Dominions  of  Solomon  ;  9-  Map  of  the 
Lapd  of  Moriah,  or  Jerusalem  and  the  adjacent  country  ;  10.  Map  of  the 
Travels  of  the  Apostles.  Price  150  cents  half  bound. 

A  GENERAL  ATLAS,  being  a  collection  of  MAPS  of  the  WORLD  and 
QU.\RTERS,  their  principal  Empires,  Kingdoms,  &c.  Containing  58 
Maps  and  Charts,  viz.  1.  The  World  ;  2.  ditto  Mercator's  projection  ;  3. 
North  America;  4.  United  States  ;  5.  Eastern  States,  with  part  of  Canada  ; 
6.  Middle  and  Western  States ;  7.  Southern  States ;  8.  North  Western 
Territories  ;  9.  Vermont;  10.  New-Hampshire  ;  11.  Maine  ;  12.  Massachu- 
setts ;  13.  Rhode-Island  ;  14.  Connecticut ;  15.  New-York  ;  16.  New-Jersey  ; 
17.  Pennsylvania ;  18.  Delaware  ;  19.  Maryland  ;  20.  Virginia ;  21 .  Noith- 
Caroliua ;  22.  South-Carolina ;  23.  Georgia ;  24.  Kcutucky ;  25.  Tennessee ; 


MISCELL\XEOUS.  ;. 

26.  Mississippi  Territory  ;  2".  Oliin  :  28.  Upper  Territories;  29.  Louisiana ; 
30.  Missouri  Territory  ;  31.  West  IiiiUes  ;  .32.  Cluirt  otdo.  ;  33.  SoLith 
America  ;  34  Kurope;  3.5.  llussia,  Northern  P.trt ;  36.  Southern  do  ;  37. 
Sweden,  Uenniurk,  Norway  ;  38.  Pol.ind  ;  39.  Scotland  ;  40.  England  and 
Wales;  41.  Ireland  ;  42.  Netherlands  ;  43.  United  Provinces  ;  44-.  Gcr- 
ni.Tny  ;  45.  France  ;  46.  Switzerland  ;  47.  Italy;  48.  Spain  and  Portugal; 
49.  Turkey  in  Viurope ;  .'50.  North  Sea;  51.  Asia;  52.  llindo.stan;  53. 
Turkey  in  Asia  ;  54.  Islands  betveen  China  and  New  Holland  ;  55.  New 
South  Wales  ;  56.  Africa  ;  57.  Countries  round  the  North  Pole  ;  58.  Cap- 
tain Cook's  Discoveries.  In  4to.     Price  5  dollars,  half  bound. 

SHEET  IVI.VPS  of  the  UNITED  ST  ATIS  and  of  all  the  STATES  and 
TERRITORIES,  SOUTH  AMERICA,  Brazil,    Chili,  Peru,  Caracas,  isc 
Pi'ice  75  cents  each,   colourcil. 
SHEET  MAPS  of  EUROPE,  ASLV,  AFRICA,  and  the  Kingdoms  into 
•which  they  arc  divided.  Price  50  cents  each,  coloured. 

ATI>\S  MINIMUS,  or   a   new  set  of  POCKET    M\PS   of  various 
EMPIRES,   KIXGDO.MS,    and   STATES,    with    Geographical  e.vtracts 
relative  to  e.ich.         Drawn  and  Engraved  by  J.  GIBSON. 
In  IBmo.     Price  I  dollar,  half  bound. 

THE  TRAVELLERS  DIRECTORY ;  or,  a  POCKET  CO]MP ANION 

showing  the  coui-se  of  the  Main  Road  from  Pliiladelphia  to  New  York,  and 
from  Philadelphia  to  Washington,  with  descriptions  of  the  jdaces  through 
which  it  passe>:,  and  the  intersections  of  the  cix)ss  roads.  Illustrated  vith  an 
account  of  such  remarkable  objects  as  are  generally  iiitei'estingto  travellers. 
From  actual  survey.  By  S."S.  MOORE  and  T."  W.  JONES. 
Second  Edition.  In  8vo.  Price  2  dollars,  bound. 
"  The  design  and  contents  of  this  volume  are  fully  expressed  in  the  title- 
page.  The  work  is  handsomely,  and  we  believe,  correctly  e.\ecuted.  Every 
traveller  on  those  roads  will  find  it  a  useful  and  instructive  companion.  The 
pL-'.i.  of  this  directory  is  so  judicious,  that  we  hope  the  authors  may  find  it 
("or  their  interest  to  extend  it  to  other  parts  of  the  United  States. 

Amer.  Rev.  and  Lit.  Jour. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  E.\R TH,  AND  ANIMATED  NATURE.    By 
OLIVER  GOLDSMITH.     A  new  edition,  with  con-cctions  and  additions. 
By  WILUAM  TURTON,  M.  1). 

Fellow  of  the  Linnoean  Society.     In  4  vols.  8vo.  ^^  ith  57  plates. 
(In  the  press,  and  will  be  published  in  Julj".) 

lUSTORICAL  MEMOIRS  of  MY  OWN  TIME,  from  1772,  to  1784 
By  Sir  NATHANIEL  WILLIAM  AVRAXALL. 

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■A   % 


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DIVINITY. 

FAMILY  BIBLES,    QUARTO. 

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1.  Old  and  New  Testaments,          -                       -            -  -     g  5  75 

2. and  Psalms            -            -  -          4  00 . 

3.  — • and  Apocrypha                  -  -            4  25   . 

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5. Apocrypha  and  11  Plates  -            5  00 

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7.  '    " ■  I      Apocrypha,  11  Plates,  :vid  Psalms  5  25. 


DIVINITY.  9 

15.  Old  and  Xev  Testaments,  A\  ocnpha  and  Concordance          -  5  25 

10.                                           ■      and  Concordance            -             -  4  75 

19.   .                                             Apocrypha,   Concordance,  25  Plates,^  ^  qq 

and  Ostervald's  Notes  5 

S2.                 I • •  Apocr^-pha  and  Psalms              -  4  75 

S3. Apocrypha,  Concoi-dance,  and  25  Plates,  6  25 

Common  Paper  JiUeted. 

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49.  ■   •      and  Apocr}pha  -  -  4  75 
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17.  ■   . Apocrjphi-,  Concordance,  25  Maps  and 

Plates  -  -  7  50 

i25.  ■' . Apociypha,  Concordance,  and  2  Maps 

2fi.  — — ^— ^— — — ^— ^-^—  and  Apocrypha  -  -         - 

27.  • Apoci-j-pha,  Concordance,  and  10  Maps 

54.  ■  Apocrypha,  Concordance,  10  Maps,  and 

Psalms 

44.  —  Apocrypha,'and  10  Plates 

45. Apocrypha,  10  Plates  and  Psalms 

46.  Apocrjpha,  and  25  Plates 

47.  ; Apocrypha,  25  Plates  and  Psalms 

Fine  Palter. 
8.  Old  and  New  Testaments,  • 

9. and  Apocnpha 

10.  Apocrypha,  Concordance,  and  2  Maps 

11.  - — • Apociypha,  Concordance,  and  10  Maps 

12.  Apocrjpha,  Concordance,  and  25  Plates  8  50 

13.  ■    '    ■  '- —  Apocrjpha,  Concordance,  25  Plates  and 

Psalms 

14.  ■ ■    ■■ Apocrypha,  Concordance,  25  Maps   "} 

and  Plates,  and   Ostervald's  Notes     5 

28. .    ■    I  Apocrypha,  Concordance,  2  Maps,  and 

Psalms  ... 

29. Apociypha,  and  Psalms 

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and  Plates,  and  Ostervald's  Notes   3 

22.  ■ Apociypha,  Concordance,  and  25  Plates  10  00 

30. Apocrj-plia,  Concoixlance,  and  10  Maps     9  25 

31. Apocrypha,  Concoi-dance,  lOMaps  and 

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6  2? 
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i<iEniCINE,  SUUGEIIY  AND  CHEMISTRY.  11 

JAMES  K.  ^VILSO^■,  A.  M.  Professcr  of  tlie  Learned  Languages. 

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'  ^%, 


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The  Heart  and  the  Fancy, 

OR 

YALSINORE. 

.i  TALE. 
BY  MISS  BENGER. 


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THIS  DAY  IS  PUBLISHED, 

By  J\L  Carey  J 

(Price  Tivo  Dollars  in  boards,) 

VARIETIES  OF  LIFE;       ' 

OR, 

Conduct  and  Consequences. 

A  NOVEL,  IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "  SKETCHES  OP  CHARACTER." 

•  "  If  I  give  speeches  and  conversations,  I  ought  to  give  them 
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known,  unless  I  repeat  what  they  say,  and  their  manner  of  say- 
ing." Richardson. 


"  "We  turn  with  all  the  elasticity  of  awakened  hope  to  a  se- 
cond production  of  the  pen  of  that  lively  and  accurate  observer, 
the  Author  of  "  Sketches  of  Character,"  a  work  which  has  ob- 
tained a  well-deserved  popularitj^,  and  is  perpetually  recurring 
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lent for  the  Comedy  of  Real  Life.  It  is  really  difficult  to  ima- 
gine how  such  very  dissimilar  walks  of  life,  as  are  depicted  in 
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Jtnd  the  same  person.  From  t\\2i\.  ge^itility  of  blood,  mind,  and 
manners,  in  the  Ponsonbys,  which  looks  down  upon  the  glare, 
frivolity  and  dash  of  mere  fashion,  &c.  down  to  the  gossip  and 
.slang  of  abigails  and  vale^  all  is  in  its  place,  all  is  true  to  na- 
ture." ,iu^ustati  Reviexv,  Oct.  1815. 


V\ 


r^ 


THE  HEART  AND  THE  FANCY, 


VALSINORE 


A  TJLE. 


BY  MISS  BENGER 


PHILADELPHIA 


PLBLISIIED  BY  M.  CAREY,  No.  121,  CHESNUT  STREEI; 
AND  WELLS  &  LILLY,  BOSTON. 

1816, 


7, 


c. 


m^ 


5C- 


PREFACE. 


IN  the  followinsc  Talc,  tlie  scenes  undoubtedly  refer 
to  soni<^  period  piior  to  that  state  of  waiiare  whidi  has 
so  1  >n.2j  prevailed  in  Europe  :  but  to  one  which  is  evi- 
dently not  far  reuT^te  from  our  own  times.  The  princi- 
pal persona2;e  behun^  decidedly  to  the  present  age : 
his  sentimeuls  have  been  imbibed  from  our  friends  and 
compatriots  ;  his  virtues  are  exemplified  by  our  living 
cotemj)orarics  ;  and  we  have  lately  witnessed  the  tri- 
umi)b  »f  Ids  piiilanthropic  principles. 

Valsinore  is  no  chimera  of  a  romantic  imagination; 
his  story  may  be  fictitious  ;  but  his  charact.r,  divested 
of  the  singularity  which  might  have  attacbed  to  it  half  a 
cent;iry  ago.  is  no  longer  even  of  tbc  novel  cast.  Such 
a  being  is  not  only  (»f  our  age,  but  oiir  }K'op!e  ;  liis  pro- 
totypes are  <!iscovcred  in  that  country  where  tlic  pro- 
gress jfeivdizatim  is  still  attested  by  tlie  diffusion  of 
trut!i  and  b<>ni  vohnce  ;  by  respect  for  the  noblest  pre- 
rogatives of  luinvn  fiature,  and  for  the  best  and  dear- 
est iiitci-cst  of  mankind. 

A 


'^^^^^'^^/r/^. 


ALSINORE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE  curate  of  Beaclulale  was  takin^^liis  usual  mor- 
ning walk  thron,gh  the  shrubbery,  so  completely  absorb- 
ed ill  meditations  on  his  beloved  plants,  that  he  heard 
not  the  shrill  voice  behind,  exclainiiiig,  Valsinore  !  Val- 
sinoi*c  !  the  mystery  must  be  one  day  discorcred  !  He 
quietly  pursued  his  steps  to  the  green-house,  and  was 
most  aftVctionatcly  greeting  a  new-blown  Hydrangia, 
when  Celia  Gladwin  came  running  towards  him,  almost 
brealliless  with  haste  and  perturbation,  and  at  last 
touching  his  shoulder,  cried,  "  So,  Mr.  Bruce,  you  have 
not  kc})t  your  word  ;  you  have  not  yet  revealed  to  Her- 
bert Altamont  his  obligations  to  that  unknown  benefac- 
tor." The  good  curate,  who  would  have  been  seriously 
alarmed  by  such  symptoms  of  inquietude  in  any  other 
person,  coolly  turned  round,  and  confessed  the  truth, 
that  he  had  broken  his  word,  because  he  forgot  to  keep 
it.  "  You  must  forget  no  more,"  returned  his  female 
complainant ;  and  then  drawing  u])  her  long,  lean  neck, 
and  raising  her  arm  to  the  configuration  of  the  handle 
of  a  tea-urn,  she  began  to  speak,  whilst  Mr.  Bruce  fully 
prepared  for  the  thcalrieal  exhibition,  picked  ofTthc  dead 
leaves  from  a  Fusda,  and  appeared  to  listen  with  atten- 
tion. 

The  Celia  in  question  resembled  not  the  Celias  of 
poetry  and  romance  ;  she  had  reached  the  stand-still  of 
life,  and  was  not  unwilling  to  assume  that  matronly  ti- 
tle of  J/?-s.  which  is  sometimes  permitted  to  attest  the 
triumplis  of  spins-jU'ship  ;  but  however  ready  she  might  be 
t©  disclaim  pretentious  to  ju^enilit^ ,  it  was  ijnpossible  te. 

A2 


/ 


fe  vAL&lNORB. 

discover  in  her  the  marks  of  approaching  age;  she  re.- 
tainvnl  all  the  ohisticity  of  yoiitli  or  even  of  chihlhood. 
N')  girl  of  fifteen  had  more  vivid  impressions,  no  hor 
more  energetic  impulses,  more  rapid  movements.  Ra- 
iher  ardent  tKan  tender,  she  was  seldom  seen  to  weep 
ii'om  pity,  but  often  to  skip  with  gladness.  Sorrow 
was  no  inmate  of  her  bosom,  for  of  hoj)e  and  credulity 
.s]ic  had  a  fuiad  inexhaustible,  and  to  siispicicns  or  selfish- 
ness was  wholly  a  stranger.  Her  actions  inspired  ad- 
)nii'ation ;  yet  was  it  difficult  to  see  her,  and  not  to  smile 
at  her  oxpence ;  for  to  a  tail,  lank  figure,  and  a  dark, 
homely  visage,  to  a  person  in  which  Time  was  baulked 
of  his  spoils  by  the  original  penury  of  nature,  she  added 
that  picturesque  style  of  (h'ess,  equally  distant  fi-om 
procisif  n  and  elegance,  and  which  at  once  offends  the 
^rave,  and  diverts  the  gay. 

Yet  was  Celia  ever  brooding  on  visions  of  celestial 
beauty,  for  the  basis  of  her  character  was  romance  ;  she 
delighted  to  trace  the  progress  of  mutual  sentiment,  and 
had  cases  and  precedents  without  number  concerning  the 
tender  passion.  Her  own  heart  had  once  been  eminent- 
ly susceptible  of/a/ici/.^f  not  of  love  ;  but  her  chagnns 
had  never  b- en  deep  or  permanent,  and  so  quickly  did 
©ne  «lream  efface  anotlier,  that  she  was  now  persuaded 
she  had  never  really  suffered  but  for  one  object,  the  fa- 
ther of  Herbert  Altamont ;  and  it  was  probably  this  cir- 
eumstarice  wliich  really  prom])tPd  her  to  take  so  warm 
an  interest  in  his  future  destiny.  Of  late,  indeed,  her 
speculations  had  assumed  a  iiigher  cast :  she  talked  and 
thought  of  the  Roman  senate,  and  the  House  of  Com- 
mons ;  of  patricians  and  peers  j  of  the  forum  and  the 
bar  ;  but  all  with  some  mysterious  reference  to  Herbert ; 
and  a  secret  being  ahnost  as  necessary  to  lier  happiness 
as  an  idol,  she  had  idioms  and  gestures  of  her  own  to 
indicate  the  most  common  occurrence.  With  this  vo- 
cabulary her  intimate  friends  were  so  perfectly  familiar, 
tin\t  when  Mr.  Bruce  saw  her  enter  the  green-house  with 
suc'ii  theatrical  agitation,  he  expected  only  a  repetition  of 
the  emphatic  phrases  to  which  he  had  been  long  accus- 
tomed to  Ustca  with  indulgcr.t  complacency :     «  Mr 


VAXSINORE.  5 

Bnicc,  the  lilcsaveappi'oacluiic:,  it  is  time  to  malie  tlie 
essay  on  llerbei't's  cluiractcr,  I  see  his  fatliei  's  spirit  in 
him  ;  \m  fathei-  was  foiinedto  vvin  all  iiearts.  and  c!;anu 
all  eves.  Descender!  tVoni  one  oftiie  iidbl;  st  h<iiLses  in 
Iieland,  lie  sjjeiit  his  little  pati'imony  willt  th.e  !ib:'i'ality 
of  his  nation  and  his  tempir  ;  hut  in  notliinj^  that  dis- 
^^I'ac'Ml  liim.''  *»  1  dare  say  not,"  said  Ale.  JJriice,  who, 
j)erceiviiiji;  an  insect  abont  to  settle  on  the  p(>tals  of  his 
//;/,/ra»^w,  took  out  his  microscope,  and  beij;an  to  ex- 
amine it.  '*  Ob !  he  \Tas  .ajallant  as  Alcibiades,  and 
generous  as  Cyrus  ;  he  was  the  only  man  I  ever  saw 
Yvhoditlnot  lose  dignity  in  walking;,'  a  minuet.  I  al- 
ways called  him  my  Grandisoii,and  be  perliaps  thoiii^iit 
mo  Ids  Clementina.  Ah  !  first  impressions  arc  indelible. 
ncvei'f  never  to  be  erased.'* 

<•  [  hope  not  always  so,  Miss  Gladwin."  "  "NVhy 
I  do  not  mean  to  make  a  rule  without  exception  :  for 
T  l)elievc  Altamont's  widow  loves  you  as  mucli  as  if  you 
hud  been  her  first  husband.  Well,  characters  differ  ; 
m'l  had^c  is  constancy f  I  shall  Jilways  cherish  Herbert 
for  his  father's  sake  ;  and  therefore,  Mr.  Bruce,  I  do 
solemn/// conjure  you  to  reveal  to  him  this  very  day,  the 
mysterious  benefaction  of  Valsinore."  *'  That  is  surely 
his  mother's  cotjeern,  he  certaiidy  is  now  of  an  age  to 
choose  a  profession  "  "A  j)rofession  !  would  you  con- 
demn him  to  the  sorry  drudgery  of  a  prof -ssion  ?  No, 
let  him  go  to  c  )llege  with  Edward  Valiancy."  "  Ad- 
mitted ;  but  let  this  be  done  w  ilh  some  specific  o!»ject." 
" //ts  object,"  retorted  Celia,  jerking  her  elbow  with  a 
vchemency  that  alarmed  Mr.  Bruce  for  the  glass  win- 
dow, "  his  object  must  be  honor,  his  goal,  glory.  Why 
don't  you  see  his  transcendent  talents  ?  don't  you  know 
liowsupei'ior  he  is  to  your  pupil  Valiancy?"  **  They 
ai'e  different,  hut  perlia|)s  not  uneq'ial.'^  "  Not  unequal ! 
this  is  all  modesty.  You  disparage  Flerbert,  because  he 
is  your  wife's  son,  and  extol  Valiancy^  because  lie  is  the 
grandson  of  Lord  Marmiton,"  **5iiO,  Miss  Gladwin^ 
no  human  being  can  impute  to  me  such  flattery  ;  this  is 
the  first  and  last  conriexion  I  have  ever  formed  with  the 
great,  and  1  am,  you  know,  indebted  for  it  to  the  re- 


VALSIXORE. 

eommoudation  of  jMr.  Do  L:\hf  who  was  williiig,  in  tliB 
way,  to  requite  !iy  wile's  kindiics.s,  in  giving  pi-olcction 
to  his  daughter  Cordelia." 

«'Aye,  ihat  Do  Lille  is  an  Apollo."  "Surety,"  re- 
torted Mr.  Bruce,^  in  whom  the  insinuation  against  his 
independenco  iwtd  inspir;'d  unwonted  cnci'gy,  "  surely 
he  is  buta  Mere^iry."  "Why  he  is  not  so  grand  a 
creature  as  mt/ Altamont;  Herbert  resembles  hhih  ;  ' 
Herbert  will  be,  must  be  a  great  man.  I  see  geniii 
Lis  eyes  ;  I  discover  talents  in  his  translations  ;  and 
certainly  construes  Cicoro,  or  Demosthenes,  with  nu;;. 
spirit  than  any  other  person  1  have  ever  known.  1  fore- 
see he  will  be  the  first  orator  in  the  house."  <«  My  dear 
Miss  Gladwin,  how  unlikely  it  is  that  Herbert  should  ever 
sit  in  Parliamerit.  You  know  the  provision  made  by 
Valsinore  is  not  large  :  my  income  exT)ii-cs  with  me  ; 
and  should  I  ever  be  so  happy  as  to  return  to  Switzer- 
land, I  should  not  be  able  to  dispose  of  my  property  in 
that  country  in  his  iavor.  The  best  lesson,  therefore,  I 
can  give  to  Herbert,  is  moderation  and  diligence.  By 
pursuing  a  profession,  he  may  make  himself  hai)py  and 
respectable;  without  it,  he  must  either  languish  in  ob- 
scurity,.  or  crouch  to  dependence."  "Well,  well,  keep 
biityour  v/ord;  lettlie  escritoir  be  produced  this  night;, 
let  the  letter  be  read,  let  him  learn  to  venerate  the  name 
of Yalsinore."  "With  all  my  heart,"  said  Mr.  Bruce, 
^'  I  will  persuade  my  wife  to  perform  this  task,  which^ 
pei'haps,  as  you  say,  has  been  too  long  delayed*" 

Here,  finding  by  his  watch  that  he  had  exceeded  his 
usual  time  for  going  to  his  pupils,  he  tenderly  stroked  a 
MlmosOf  ami  turned  into  one  path,  whilst  Celia,  to  allay 
the  tumultuous  sensasions  the  conference  had  excited^ 
darted  through  another,  overturtiing  with  tlie  train  of 
her  gown  a  beautiful  myrtle,  just  opening  its  delicate 
white  blossoms,  the  sight  of  which  might  have  discom- 
posed even  Mr.  Bruce,  who,  having  spent  his  childhood 
in  Switzerland,  of  which  his  mother  was  a  native,  had 
imbibed  in  its  romantic  scenery  an  ardent  passion  for 
the  beauties  of  natiu'e  ;  and  though  married  to  an  amia- 
ble woman,  was  disposed  to  consider  flowers  as  the  loye- 
liest,  if  not  the  best,  pai't  of  the  creation* 


fm])resspd  uali  respect  for  tlr-  n;;!,  s-nj^  :;i(.,;;:i  virtues 
»f  Miss  Gladwin,  ho  looked  with  tender  indul^'cnce  on 
her  ex(r;vvag;inec,  find  never  suffered  his  oi'derly  muscles 
to  bo  drseoinposed  by  lier  oddity  to  indocorous  risibility. 
Althn;ie:h  at  first  sifj;Iit  tliis  sijisjidiir  beinjs,'  had  the  air 
of  a  recluse,  she  bad  lived  in  the  world,  and,bcin.i^  i^en- 
C'ellv  connected,  was  admitted  with  her  small  stipend  to 
^'  '  is  called  the  best  society.  Many  al'asiiiojiabh^  la- 
cleomed  her  to  the  toilette,  wfto  would  not  bave 
:•  ii  seen  with  the  iil-dresscd  creature  in  public  for  aii 
r;."  wnrh!.  S!ic  had  correspondents  by  do?e!JS,  from 
V  horn  she  received  long  and  tender  episjtles,  in  whicU 
-he  was  addj'csscd  as  the  »♦  best  and  dearest  Ceiia  ;"  the 
■  oiiLi  and  only  behaved."  Sometimes,  indeed,  on  her 
"■-.lis  to  tliesc  professing  friends,  she  was  struck  with  tla; 
dis;  irity  in  tneir  letters  and  tlieir  looks  ;  but  then,  tho 
recollection  of  some  tender  parting  came  opportunely 
o  console  her  for  the  frigid  meeting.  Enthusiasm  war, 
•  ransferred  from  the  pres'f  nt  to  the  absent;  and  stiil 
-•vTvolvingin  one  circle  of  amiable  egotism,  her  dream  of 
life,  like  the  siiifting  sands  hi  the  hour  glass,  changed 
ITS  position,  but  not  its  course.  For  the  last  ciglit  years, 
and  almost  IVom  the  commencement  of  her  acquaintancvJ 
with  the  afHicted  relict  of  her  cherished  frst  lore,  aU 
other  confHkMits  and  correspondents  had  been  secondary 
objects  of  interest ;  her /if  a/if,  and  even  her/a«C7/,  setm- 
«'d  stationary  at  Beachdale.  Nor  did  her  friendship  va- 
ry, wlieii  Mrs.  Altamont  consented  to  become  the  w ife 
oftlic  amiaide  yiv.  Bruce  ;  and  since  tliat  e\ent  she  had 
regidarly  spent  some  months  of  every  summer  at  the* 
vicarage,  where  she  caught  the  spirit  of  her  classical 
circle  with  c!iihl-like  docility,  and  learnt  to  talk  of  the 
heroes  of  Greece  and  Rome  with  as  much  fluency  as  of 
Lovelace  and  Sir  Charles  Gi  andison.  This  pedantry 
flowed  IVom  sywipathy,  and  like  every  thing  in  her  char- 
acter, was  bl  nded  with  romance  ;  even  her  benevolence 
partook  of  this  mixture  ;  and  after  having  diligently  as- 
sisted Mrs.  Bruce,  in  working  for  the  poor,  and  comfort- 
ing the  afflicted,  she  found  her  reconi])encc  in  imagining 
some  state  of  society  iii  which  no  luisery  should  exist- 


,(M 


8  YALSINOK£. 

If  ever  there  was  a  scene  congenial  to  such  Utopian 
visi'ins,  it  was  to  be  found  in  Mr.  Bruco's  s'udy  :  tli« 
world  was  there  excluded,  and  peace  and  concord  reign- 
ed within.  It  was  a  scone  of  quiet,  home-bred  hapj)i- 
ness,  supplying  a  regular  succession  of  cheap,  salubri- 
ous pleasures.  Theroom  oi)ened  on  a  lawn,  on  which 
the  syringa  and  rose  acacia  now  iijtermingled  their  lux- 
urious bljssom.  The  lawn  sloped  towards  delicious 
fields.  A  lofty  amphitheatre  of  hanging  woods  rose  on 
the  otiier  side,  concealing  in  its  first  ascent  the  ambitious 
hill,  whose  sunjmit  bounded  the  horizon. 

It  was  a  sweet  pastoral  landscape,  arid  never  was  wis- 
dom piesentcd  under  a  more  engaging  form,  than  in  this 
happy  academy  ;  wliere,  in  !iis  own  do'iscstic  circle,  Mr. 
Bruce  aluiost  forgot  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  and  the  en- 
chanting scenery  of  Lausanne.  His  two  pupils,  Her- 
bert x\ltamontand  Edward  Valiancy,  had  each  his  clas- 
sical pursuit.  At  her  work  table  appears  Mrs.  Brace, 
altf^rnately  occu]ued  with  her  needle  or  her  book,  often 
casting  an  afTectionate  glance  on  her  son,  or  exchanging 
a  few  friendly  Vvords  with  her  ever-approved  and  api)ro- 
ving  husband.  Near  her  sits  Cordelia,  the  youngest  of  the 
group,  now  veiging  on  thirteen,  who  has  for  some  years 
been  llevhert's  jnipil,  and  cheerfully  pursues  her  allotted 
task,  but  always  suspends  her  diligence  when  she  hears 
the  voice  of  her  preceptor.  It  was  the  privilege  of  this  lit- 
tle community,  that  though  each  had  his  in.lependent  pur- 
suit, none  was  insulated  from  the  rest;  thei-e  was  no 
solitary  interest,  no  undivided  pleasure.  When  Mr, 
Bruce  and  his  young  friends  dwelt  with  delight  on  some 
splendid  classical  passage,  Mrs.  Bruce,  in  noticing  tiic 
expression  of  each  animated  countenance,  had  her  share, 
and  perhaps  the  largi\st  share  of  the  enj  )yment. 

Another  privilege  belonging  to  this  social  academy, 
was  its  perfect  exemption  from  Pythagorean  discipline. 
Even  in  th^  hours  of  study,  no  other  laws  and  limita- 
tions were  imposed  on  the  liberty  of  speech,  than  those 
w')ich  good  sense  and  good  breeding  dictated.  In  a 
laiger circle  such  liberality  might  liave  proved  pcrni- 
«ious  5  but  here,  m  tliis  family  of  Lai'mony  a»d  love,  it 


I 

M 


YAISINORE.  9 

producod  only  that  flow  of  cliocrfiilnoss,  wliich  is  the  pu- 
rest source  of  bcnovoloncr  ;  and  improvcuu'iit  was  not 
really  itnjK'ded,  th'mi;li  s^aioty  and  {^ood  huniniir  wne 
essentially  promotd,  by  occasional  dij^ressions  from 
books  to  the  "bsr-rvations  thry  su.2;gcstcd.  Hcib'st  was 
sparinsj  in  iiis  use  of  this  p!Mvilra;(^  ;  but  to  Valiancy,  it 
formed  tlie  fii'st  blessinj^  of  existence.  Lively  and  de- 
sultory, he  fluttered  from  paqe  to  pas:e  with  su<h  vola- 
tile rapidity,  that  he  would  seem  to  have  tasted  no  beau- 
ties, when  he  had  in  reality  extracted  all.  He  bad  a 
strona^  relish  for  husnour,  and  a  ni<ist  poii^nant  sense  of 
ridicule;  l)utthis  mcninj^  he  was  so  uiuisiially  serious, 
that  not  even  tho  entrance  of  Celia  Gladwin  excited  his 
spirits.  He  had  now  enterrd  on  the  last  week  of  his 
residence  at  Reachdale ;  and  thoii.e;!)  hy  the  sudden 
death  of  his  elder  brother,  o.j  w  horn  he  conceived  both 
his  mother  and  ^grandfather  to  have  lavished  undue  par- 
tiality, he  was  himself  put  in  possessif)n  of  the  rank  and 
consideration  he  had  formerly  envied,  ho  could  not  with- 
out regjret  relinquish  his  accust<nned  place  in  the  friend- 
ly circle,  where  his  heart  had  been  first  awakened  by 
kindness  to  gratitiule  and  sympathy. 

It  had  been  the  intention  of  Lord  Marmiton,  who,  on 
his  son's  death,  had  taken  upon  him  the  sjiiardianship  of 
his  .e^randsons,  that  both  Edward  Valiancy  and  his 
brotljcr,  till  tliey  ai-rived  at  a  ])roper  aa;e  to  be  sent  to 
colles;e,  shoidd  receive  under  his  own  e}e  a  domestic  ed- 
ucation. Mr.  De  Lille,  a  j:;entleman  who  had  been  for- 
merly useful  to  His  Lordship  in  a  diplomatic  underta- 
kin.e^,  was  the  person  to  whmn  he  entrusted  the  care  o? 
their  tuition.  It  was  bow-ever  soon  siie;ajested  by  this 
gentleman,  that  a  separation  between  the  brothers  was 
absolutely  necessary  to  their  future  welfare  ;  and  it  was 
owina;  t'»  his  interfer-'nce,  that  Edward  was  sent  to 
Beaelidale.  in  w  liose  amiable  domestic  circle  he  forij^ot 
to  he  perverse,  and  found  no  tc.nptation  to  be  ani^ry. 
His  literary  pro?^r<  ss  eonrsnonded  with  his  moral  im- 
provements. Oripi'inally  desie;ned  for  t!ie  church,  it  was 
thouc,'lit  necessary  to  make  him  a  scholar :  but  now 
that  bis  destination  was  changed,  it  waa  Lord  Marmi- 


10  YALSINOKr, 

ton's  earnest  wish  that  he  should  be  ushered  intosocicl 
more  conversant  with  the  world.  A  few  years  ago  Val- 
iancy would  liave  hailed  with  rapture  the  approach  of 
liberty ;  but  now  he  was  serious  and  Herbert  almost 
dejected,*  for  he  had  not  only  to  endure  the  loss  of  his 
friend's  society,  but  to  strug.^le  with  his  own  eager- 
ness to  aecom|»any  him  to  college,  to  silence  the  whis- 
pers of  ambition,  and  calm  the  ardent,  aspiring  soul 
that  now  languished  at  the  name  of  tranquility. 

Nor  was  even  Cordelia  without  her  cares ;  since  Her- 
bert, who,  in  com  non  with  all  jiivenil?  masters,  was 
apt  to  be  somewhat  rigorous  in  his  exactions,  had  late- 
ly taxed  her  with  want  of  memory  and  attention,  pro- 
testing his  astonishment,  that  she,  who  had  heard  so 
much  and  so  long  of  Gr-cian  and  Roman  history,  should 
yet  know  it  so  little.  The  timid  girl,  who,  whatever 
repugnance  slie  might  occasionally  discover  to  the  re- 
quisitions of  Mrs.  Bruce,  to  him,  at  least,  was  ever 
loyal  and  obedient ;  after  shedding  some  bitter  tears,  un- 
seen, unnoticed,  resolved  to  repel  the  charge,  heroical- 
ly resumed  her  studies,  read  by  stealth,  and  with  sueh 
ardour,  tliat  she  almost  fancied  she  had  known  the  he- 
roes of  Marathon  and  Thermopylai,  She  commented  on 
what  rshe  had  read,  and,  inspired  by  a  mind  superior  to 
her  own,  soon  produced  a  comparison  between  the  pat- 
riots of  Greece  and  Rome,  whieli  would  not  have  dis- 
graced her  s'vere  preceptor.  This  task  atchieved, 
there  yet  remained  another,  of  far  greater  difficulty-^in 
what  inanner  to  present  to  his  eye,  for  whom  alone  it 
M'as  written,  the  honorable  record  of  her  diligence  and 
docility.  And  now,  how  many  plans  were  suggested 
and  ri'J'jcted  ;  liow  many  questions  canvassed  and  dis- 
missed ;  how  many  thouglits  and  feelings,  till  then  un- 
Jcnown,  were  con)plicated  in  this  first  secret,  and  were 
harboured  in  her  innocent  bosom.  To  give  it  to  him, 
might  appear  too  bold;  to  slip  it  into  his  desk,  too  cun- 
Jiin^-;  she  fears  not  his  censure,  butfeolsshe  could  not 
beai'the  cold,  unthankfid  silence  ;  or,  bitterer  still,  the 
faint,  forced  praise.  Already,  on  this  delicate  point, 
she  iias  ac;!'uircd  a  new  facidty  of  discrimination,  that 


VALSINORE,  Ji 

sense  of  dignity  shrinking  from  intrusion,  that  pride 
mingled  with  humility,  which  asserts  itself  by  gentle- 
ness and  forbearance ;  that  tender,  timid  conscious- 
ness, so  sensitive  to  alarm,  so  jeah)us  of  reproach, 
wiiich  belongs  exclusively  to  the  female  soul.  The  re- 
sult of  all  her  long  deliberation,  was  to  hide  her  perform- 
ance in  Mrs.  Bruce's  worlc-basket,  leaving  to  chance  a- 
lone  to  make  the  momentous  disclosure. 

Miss  Gladwin,  had  also  ample  subject  for  reflection, 
in  the  expected  conununication.  She  took  up  the  news- 
paper, but  in  reading  tlie  debates,  at  every  animated 
speech,  was  ready  to  exclaim,  *'  And  sucli  shall  be  Al- 
tamont !"  Nor  was  she  satisfied  with  adjudging  to  him 
the  prize  of  senati)rial  eloquence.  In  fancy  she  had 
Jong  since  burthciied  him  with  the  oppressive  charge  of 
the  budget ;  and  being  led  by  this  reflection,  to  specu- 
late on  future  blessings  to  be  derived  from  his  adminis- 
tration, she  exclaimed,  involuntarily,  "  What  a  conso- 
lation it  would  be.  to  seethe  national  debt  paid  oft"?"* 
<*For  which,"  cried  Valiancy,  you  require  notliing  nn'rc 
than  the  philosopher's  stone  !"  "  O  yes,"  said  Celia, 
who  always  overlooked  raillery  in  her  zeal  for  argument, 
**  we  require  a  patriot  king,  and  an  immaculate  min- 
istry." «*  Dear  Madam,  do  you  require  otdy  tliis?  You 
believe  then  in  the  ti'ansmigration  of  souls."  •»  Who, 
I,  believe  in  any  article  not  to  be  found  in  the  church 
of  England  ?"  <•  You  admit  the  existence  of  a])pari- 
tions  and  d?emons."  '*  Who,  1?  what  do  you  take  me 
for  ?  J  have  no  such  absurdity."  ♦*  You  at  least  reverence 
the  miraculous  head  of  Januarius  ?"  **  Nonsense,  Val- 
iancy ;  what  has  the  head  of  Januarius  to  do  with  Al- 
tamont's  being  Prime  Minister  ?"  "  Altanumt !  atMl  is 
it  from  him  you  expect  a  greater  miracle  than  ^^ase- 
ver  wi'ouglit  by  alltlie  .saints  of  the  calendar?" 

Celia  \A  as  pre]>aring  to  demand  an  explana^icn.  when 
an  incident  occurred  wliich  completely^  deranged  the 
argument. 

*  The  observation  of  Celia  will  not  appear  so  extrara- 
t^axit  when  it  is  known  that  it  was  made  prior  to  the  French 
reTolutioD. 


U/^ 


i^  VALSINORt. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  village  of  Beach d ale  was  at  some  distance  from 
any  public  icad.  ami  Ihe  wliite  walls  of  the  vicciriige 
Mere  ho  co.iplftci^  s-questcicd,  tJiatit  was  possible  to 
spend  in  thciH  the  long'srsiinimer's-day,  witlsoiit  being 
oiic.^  rsninded  of  the  bus;y,  tea'balint  world.  V.  iiat 
tiki)  was  the  surj)i'ise  ut  its  amiable  inLabitants,  when  a 
c;:ai*i'»t  and  foirwas  descried,  heavily  rnilint;-  ovi  r  the 
gree.j  sw  I  li  wiuit'j  imp  ded  its  pDjjiess,  tJiroiif^h  the 
lonjs;  oitidij|.o<  laoe,  1  ading  to  the,  h</iise  In  one  instant 
the  raii.iJv  vveri- ail  iti  motion.  E\en  the  sednte  Mr. 
E'tce  pi«t(!o  vn  !iis  {olio,  and  took  up  liis  pjci^et  teles- 
cope :  and  LMia  herself  was  in  sucii  suspense,  tirat  for 
two  niiu.tcs  s!iv  .stood  still,  and  looked  like  other  peo- 
ple. CoMJeeture  was  now  ended  ;  for  liic  caeiii;^e  sti;pt, 
an-.l  the  p  t-so  alighting  fron>  it  was  no  other  il;an  Mr. 
De  Lille,  the  father  i,f  Cordelia.  He  was  ins' anllj  sur- 
rounded by  the  whole  family,  all  ofl".  ;".ng  the  n.ost  cor- 
dial wtlcome.  But  De  Liilr  v.  psevi  ^ntly  impatif  nt  of 
every  impedin:ent  to  his  uiissi(>n  ;  and  aft»'i-  paying  his 
comjdiments  to  ail,  an:  m  st  obspqia;>usly  to  Valiancy, 
he  abrnotly  aiinounced  the  o'L-ject  of  his  visit,  which 
was  to  take  back  his  Cordelia.  At  tlie  same  time 
he  assured  Valiancy  tliatb  »th  his  nmthtr  isnd  Lord  Mar- 
miton  were  perfectly  well,  and  expecting  to  see  him 
in  his  '\a.y  to  college. 

Tl\e  tears  started  to  Cordelia's  eyes,  which  had 
been  rrsdiant  with  joy  at  her  fathers  approach.  To  sof- 
ten her  regret,  De  Lille  assured  her  she  should  refirtt 
in  a  few  weeks  tr  Beaehdale.  ♦*  But  surely,"  cried  Mi*s. 
Bruce,  "you  will  not  lea  e  us  to  day."  He  was  extrenie- 
ly  sorr},  it  was  very  i^nfortimate.  but  it  WiiS  absolutely 
necessary  he  should  tear  himself  away  "  .-lere  again 
his  fine  eyes  \» '^re east  down,  \>hilst  aconscio-issmile  of 
ex'.ltatin  stole  .ver  his  countenance.  But  perceiving 
his  daughter's  dejection,  he  pinched  her  cheek,  and  prK?«  % 


VAXSINORE.  IS 

■mised  not  to  detain  her  more  than  one  fortnij2;ht ;  addin.^ 
J  *«  I  have  a  tlioiisaiid  things  to  say  to  you/'  JtJor  eyes 
(  brij^hlcncd  attliis  assurance,  but  still  her  heai't  was  hea- 
vy ;  and  thou.e^li  witen  felicitated  by  her  tViont's  on  her 
approaching- «'\ciirsi. in.  she  tried  to  smile,  she  felt  so 
niiich  more  inelin*'d  t(»  nncc  p,  that  she  was  jjjlad  to  steal 
out  of  the  room,  softly  murmitriiie;  to  hei-silf,  «*Had  it 
been  bat  to-morrow,  I  should  thon  perhaps  for  once  have 
pleased  Herbert."  And  for  that  once,  tliat  all-precious 
moment,  even  fancy  could  sug'gest  no  equivalent.  The 
heart  is  too  tenacious  to  accept  a  compromise.  Da 
Lille,  aft ;^r  s:Iancing  from  one  to  the  other,  with  a  mys- 
terious ail*,  addressing  Mrs.  Gladwin,  pi'ofessed  to  have 
some  connnission  w  ith  whicli  to  intrust  her  ;  and  she, 
enchanted  with  any  thing  in  the  shape  of  a  secret,  in- 
stantly arose,  and  with  great  complacency  permitted 
him  to  conduct  her  to  an  arbor  in  the  garden.  Val- 
iancy followed  them  with  his  eyes  ;  and  wiien  he  ob- 
served C<dia's  energetic  gesticulation,  and  saw  by  the 
violent  motion  of  her  muscles,  that  she  was  in  raptu- 
rous amazement,  he  exclaimed.  "  If  David  Hartley  had 
known  the,  I  siiould  not  have  wondi'red  at  his  theorj 
of  thoughts  and  vibration."  De  Lille  was  in  every 
respect  the  pupil  of  the  graces,  and  strikingly  exemjdi- 
fied  the  remark  of  Lord  Chesterfield,  tliat  superficial 
rKgancf  almost  invariably  extorts  success  b( fore  solid 
nnattractive  morit.  Mr.  Bruce  Avas  a  man  of  sound 
learning,  of  coireet  taste,  of  strict  piet}, and  unblemish- 
ed reputation  ;  but  Ids  maimers  were  cold  and  reser- 
ved, ami  though  generally  «'steemed,  it  w as  necessary 
that  he  shoi.ld  be  intiniatt  ly  known  to  be  loved.  A 
moderate  competence  iuid  been  the  boundary  of  his 
?  ambitio:),  and  he  seemed  destined  to  live  and  die  inqui- 
['  et  obscurity. 

'  0*  Lill'  ,wit!i  scarcely  any  advantage  other  than  a  capti- 
vnMrgcxreri'ir,  though  originally  v  ithont  fortune  or  eon- 
n  .\i>Mis,  had  shaped  his  wa>  To  som.'tldng  like  distine- 
ti''f>.  In  early  life  Isc  had  won  the  affections  of  a  lovely 
'J^ii I  of  famijy,  who  f)r  his  s.'.ke  inci>;red  the  parontal 
malediction,  and  was  renounced  by  all  her  connexions. 

B 


1*  VALSIXOKE. 

•She  possessed  some  foi-tiDic  indepciiilont  of  her  father,  of 
Avijich  Df  Lillc  was  ])ut  into  possession,  but  Mliich  was 
soon  dissipated  in  fashionable  follies.  Reduced  to  indi- 
gence, he  was  hapi)il}-  recommended  as  private  secivta- 
ry  to  Lonl  iMarmiton,  who  wtis  then  going  abroad  in  a. 
diplomatic  capacity.  To  this  polite  nobleman,  l)e  Lille 
"Was  foi'tunate  enough  to  rendci-some  essential  services, 
and  on  his  return  to  England  was  invited  by  hun  to  su- 
perintend the  education  of  his  two  grandsons,  till  he 
sliould  be  able  to  procure  him  a  situation  more  worthy  of 
his  tal-nts.  De  Lille  contrived  to  rend' r  this  office  a 
sinecure,  by  getting  rid  of  the  younger  Valiancy,  whose, 
brilliant  capacity  was  but  too  f  )r!uidable  to  a  man  of 
his  moderate  attainments.  Her'c  therefore  he  lived  at 
ease,  ilattei-cd  and  carressed  by  Lord  Marniiton,  who 
was  hap])y  to  discover  so  cheap  a  mode  of  compensating 
former  services,  and  trusted  and  courted  by  the  moliicr 
of  his  pupil,  who  conjmonly  resided  with  her  father-iu- 
law,  under  his  immediate  protection. 
■  In  the  meantime,  the  unhappy  wile  of  Do  I/dle  died,  _ 
withci'ing  in  her  bloom  at  iieachdale,  to  which  she  liad  ' 
retired  for  cheapn*  ss  and  privacy  ;  and  with  her  last 
breath  implored  Mrs.  Bruce  to  taki^  her  little  Cordelia 
under  her  maternal  care.  xVlrs.  Bruce  had  so  well  per- 
formed her  promise,  that  Coi-dclia  scarcely  felt  the  loss 
of  either  parent ;  she  had  indeed  simietimes  seen  her 
father  for  a  few  days,  and  in  common  with  every  body 
else,  thought  him  the  handsoniest  man  in  the  world  :  but 
it  was  not  possible,  during  such  transient  interviews, 
to  inspire  all  the  filial  love  of  whicli  her  nature  was  ca- 
pable, and  little  could  it  occasion  surprise,  that  slie  was 
alarmed  by  any  intimation  of  being  removed  from  the 
vicarage.  It  was  the  first  time  such  a  requisition  had 
ever  been  made,  and  Mrs.  Bruce  had  a  painful  surmise 
that  the  separation  was  intended  to  be  final ;  she 
therefore  awaited  with  some  impatience  the  conclusion  of 
the  c  mference  between  De  Lille  and  Miss  Gladwin. 
Wh^n  they  at  length  rct'^rned,  exultation  was  still  more 
strongly  imprinted  in  !iis  countenance ;  Celja's  eye  spark- 
led with  pleasure,  and  most  unusuuliy  the  crimson  min- 


<h» 


^^*j[  VAXSINOKE.  1» 

glcd  with  the  yellow  in  her  sun-bnrnt  cheeks.  *<Surely," 
whispers  Valiancy  to  Mrs.  Bruce.  <*he  has  iKade  love  to 
her."  Mrs.  liri.ce  was  in  no  hcniour  to  rcllHii  the  pleas- 
antry, and  never  was  any  siirn»ise  more  invidious.  Celia 
w  as  tlie  e;i;!)ti,st  of  fancy,  hut  her  lieart  was  pure  from 
selfisii  feelinj!»s  :  natiire  hinl  stampt  on  it  an  honoraUle 
sin.2;ularity.  for  jscenerosity  and  eccentricity.  A  disinter- 
ested being;  is  seldom    undcistood  and  appreciated. 

C :>r(hdia  now  thi-owin:^  her  arms  aromid  Mrs.  Bruce's 
neck,  spoke  not,  lest  slie  slioidd  s;)b  aloud  :  her  fiiend, 
equally  affecf<'d,  pressed  her  to  lier  bosom  in  silence  ; 
the  a.j^itated  .«;ie!,  spreadini;:  her  hands  over  her  face, 
and  notdarnig'to  look  back,  was  passively  conducted  by 
her  father  to  the  carriaj^e, 

a  Very  strangle,"  cried  Valiancy,  <*  that  my  mother 
should  not  Iiavc  written  by  him,  and  strangei*  still,  that 
he  should  have  come  to  day,  when.  Iiad  he  waited  till 
next  week,  we  mi2;ht  liave.e;one  toj^ther.'' 

*»  l)c  Lille  has  acted  with  the  utmost  delicacy,"  said 
Celia,  <'  he  has  left  a  letter  fror.i  your  mother,  which  he 
would  not  produce  lest  he  should  distress  you  ;  and 
he  has  taken  aw  ay  his  daughter,  lest  the  sight  of  her 
should  offend  you." 

«'  Offend  me  !  how  can  I  be  offended  by  Cordelia  ?" 

"  You  may  happen  to  be  displeased  with  licr  father 
without  a  cause;  for  was  he  bound  to  sacrifice  his  own 
ha])piness,  and  that  of  a  being  dearer  than  existence  2 
No  !  no  !  there  are  limitations  to  saei'ifice." 

"  Of  wT»at  sacrifice  are  you  speaking?"  "  He  has 
shewn  his  disinterested  regard,  since  her  jointure  cannot 
be  touched,  and  the  remainder  of  her  fortune  he  reserves 

ronly  to  the  chance  of  survivoiship." 
.,     »*  For  heaven's  sake,  of  what  are  you  speaking  ?" 

"  You  nnist  exert  your  magnanimity  ;  he  is  married 
to  your  mother." 

•*  Married  to  my  mother  !  impossible  !"  "It  is  true." 
*'  What,  the  honorable  Mrs.  Valiancy,  tlie  sister  of 
JBaron  Rouvigny,  the  discreet,  prudent  widow,  who  has 
lived  in  such  strict  retirement !" 

"  And  that  was  the  verv  reason.     For  one  instance  of 
B2 


16  .  VALSINORB. 

love  in  town,  ilicre  are  known  ten  in  the  country  : — then 
they  livid  in  the  same  hotise,  and  love  is  all  i;itality.'* 
*<  Pray,  Madam,  let  me  hear  no  more  of  fatalities.  I 
do  not  believe  it.'' 

<'  There's  your  mother's  letter,  then  j  will  you  admit 
such  evidence  ?" 

Valiancy  tore  it  open,  and  discovering  by  the  signature, 
that  what  he  had  heard  w  as  true,  tlirew  it  down  indig- 
nantly, exclaiming,  "Married  !  and  within  two  months 
of  my  brother's  death  !" 

"  A  most  unjust  aspersion,"  replied  CcJia,  they  were 
privately  united  tv/o  months  before." 

♦'What,  steal  a  match  too  !  Worse  and  woj-.se,  the  ve- 
ry climax  of  degradation  !  and  docs  my  grandfatlier  sanc- 
tion this  union  ?" 

**  Assuredly, — he  has  set  you  a  noble  lesson  of  mod- 
eration and  magnanimity." 

«»  Oh,  spare  me  the  euh^gium  of  Lord  Marmiton's 
magnanimity!  As  well  might  you  celebrate  my  mo- 
ther's delicacy  and  propriety.  No,  if  his  Lordship  choo- 
ses to  harbor  a  paranu)ur  and  a  seducer,  I  shall  not 
trouble  him  with  my  presence." 

"  Well,  sir,  that  obstacle  will  soon  he  removed  j  your 
mother  and  Mr.  De  Lille  are  going  abroad." 

"  Oh,  I  am  glad  of  it,  I  rejoice  that  they  can  yet  feel 
ashamed." 

«<  And  is  my  sweet  Cordelia  to  go  with  them  ?"  said 
Mrs.  Bruce. 

«  I  believe  so,"  replied  Miss  Gladwin,  **  hut  don't 
grieve,  she  will  be  happy  with  Adela." 

"Oh,  that  was  my  brotlier's  inten(U'd.  Miss  Rouvigny's. 
fortune  was  to  have    been  kept  i)i  the  family.     1  well 
know  my  nj:)thor's  motive  for  taking  cliarge  of  her  <^<1| 
cation ;  she  lias  at  least  afforded  her  a  warning,  if  n<y 
an  example." 

*»  She  ma>  be  your  bride,  perhaps,"  said  Celia,  will- 
ing to  soften  [lis  imlignation. 

«  My  bride  !  never  j  may  I  perish  if  I  ever  take  a 
girl  who  has  been  brought  up  under  Mrs.  De  Lille's  aus- 


■V.vL'siA'OI.L. 


picos.     As   to  Lord  Marmitoii,  he  must  act  us  lie  thinks 
p!V)})f  r,  but  for  invst'ir,  I  never" — 

Iloi-e  Mr.  Bruce  entreated  liini  to  bo  calm.  Mrs. 
Erticc  wept.  Herbert  looked  his  l"celin.e,s.  Valiancy 
was  so  much  toncUed  by  this  commiseration,  that,  check- 
in;^  iiis  violence,  he  only  said;  ♦'  Leave  me  to  myself,  I 
will  endeavtjr  to  master  the  folly.  1  am  not  now  fit  for 
society."  AVith  these  words  he  rushed  out  of  the  room, 
and  retired  to  his  own  apartment. 

Mrs.  Bruce  could  not  restrain  her  tears,  at  the  idea 
tliat  s!ie  liaUinally  parted  from  Cordelia;  and  Celia, 
willin.c^  to  divrt  lier  thoughts  from  the  principal  subjeci, 
remindetl  ^\lv.  Bruce  of  the  promised  communication.  H- 
looked  at  his  wife,  as  if  he  feared  to  afllict  he)',  "but  she 
readily  assented  to  the  I'eqiiest ;  and  whikst  slic  left  the 
rotni  to  feteii  the  eseritoir  containino;  the  manuscripts, 
her  husband  jjere-ivins;  the  sui'prise  in  Herbert's  coun- 
tenance, thus  address"d  lum  :  ♦•  You  are  not'  i.ijnorant 
that  your  father.  Captain  Altamont,  was  several  years 
in  America,  where  be  married  your  mother,  at  that  time 
in  tiie  bloom  of  yo!.*<!.  He  retui-ned  to  Europe  previous 
to  the  com*nenc,Mn'^)it  of  Ijostilities  between  Great  Brit- 
ain and  the  C'donies  :  and  that  he  mii^ht  not  serve  a- 
jL^aiust  a  p•^>ple  for  wh^m  lie  f.dr  'paternal  aftectioii,  lie 
sold  his  commissim,  and  leaviiij^  bis  wile  at  Beach- 
dal?.  adventured  in  an  expedition  to  one  (tf  the  new  set- 
tlements, with  tjje  Iiiipeofsoon  realizini^au  an.ple  for- 
tune. Of  the  events  which  happened  after  his  embarka 
tion.  it  r»v.nait»s  for  ymir  mother  to  inform  you  ;  anfi 
sh"?  wiiljit  the  same  time  ex])lain  what  our  fiicnd  Miss 
Gla  Iwin  means  by  the  mysterious  bencf.ietor."  At  this 
moment  iilrs.  Bruce  returned  ;  wlien  her  husband,  bav- 
in::;, as  he  bo])ed,  facilitated  her  destined  task,  with  that 
iinjate  dsdicacy  vvliich  nature  firq  lently  dnies,  and 
which  edicUion can  never  fully  su])ply,  quickly  with- 
drew, unwillinjij;  to  embarrass  the  expression  of  those 
feeliu.s^f,  wliicli  the  i-ecital  must  call  up  in  the  heart  of  his 
beloved  wife. 

Mrs    Bruce  then  produced  lier  eseritoir,  from  which 
alio  took  out  a  pocket-book  inscribed  with  the  uaiue  of 


/■ 


^S  yALSINOKE. 

Valsinoic.  ••  in  tlii.s  pocket-book,  lieru-,  n,  > on  wiil  tind 
a  little  narrative  of  our  misfortunes,  v\liich.  liad  it  nleas- 
0(1  heaven  to  take  me  during* your childhooil,  waste  have 
served  for  a  ni('mt)rial  of  our  unexpected  deliverance.'* 
Here  Mrs.  Bruce  appearirij;  affected,  Celia  offered  to 
read  the  letter ;  and  ali^jost  tearing  the  ])aper  in  her 
cag-erness  to  favor  Herbert  with  its  contents,  began  as 
follows : 

'*  My  dear  son,  I  have  been  in  great  and  overwhelm- 
in  affliction,  of  which  you,  the  innocent  witness,  were 
happily  too  yoinig  to  partake.  Lest  the  hand  of  death 
should  snatch  fro;n  you  your  only  remaining'j)arcnt,  she 
submits  to  paper,  for  your  future  information,  the  events 
which  saddened  the  morning  of  your  existence.  1  arri-' 
ved  in  England  with  my  husband,  and  for  some  months 
enjoyed  perfect  felicity.  Hostilities  now  commenced 
with  America  ;  and  your  father,  though  fondly  attached 
to  military  distincth)n,  renounced  all  bopes  of  preferment 
by  the  disposal  of  his  commission,  which  he  was  sensi- 
ble he  could  not  keep  without  serving  against  my  native 
country. 

An  expedition  of  a  commercial  nature  was  at  that  time 
planned  for  the  New  Settlements,  and  my  husband,  but 
too  zealous  for  my  welfare,  and  that  of  ids  child,  resol- 
ved to  engage  in  it  with  the  greater  part  of  bis  property, 
not  doubting  hut  that  he  should  soon  return  to  me  with 
aflflueuce  at  Ids  disposi  I. 

Previous  to  his  departure,  he  placed  me  in  this  quiet 
cottage,  leaving  in  his  agent's  hands  a  considerable  sum 
for  my  use.  His  tempter  was  so  sanguine,  his  heart  so 
genoi'ous,tbat  he  seemed  insonsi!)le  to  every  thing  but 
my  comfort  and  security.  When  we  parted,  he  promised 
to  return  in  fifteen  months  ;  aiul  though  tears  were  steal- 
ing from  bis  eyes,  there  was  the  smile  of  hope  on  his  lips. 
I  know  not  how  1  endured  the  separation.  I  mourned 
over  him  as  if  he  had  been  already  dead,  till  his  first 
better  arrived  ;  and  when  I  saw  his  writing,  and  recall- 
ed his  words,  I  seemed  once  more  to  live  under  his  pro- 
iection*    But  1  was  soon  forced  from  our  pleasant   re-^ 


TALSINORE.  ,         "  ^^ 

treat,  by  the  failure  of  t!ie  ai^cnt  in  whose  hands  lie  had 
placc'l  ilic  money  destiniMl  r>r  niv  support. 

On  tliis  uni'xpoctcd  intelligence,  I  liasteticd  to  London, 
tli'Kigh  totally  ignorant  oftlie  turuis  of  business,  wlicrc 
I  learnt  that  tliis  l);ise  man  had  appropriated  to  his  own 
enxd  .nient  the  iih  ney  wiih  which  he  should  have  ensured 
my  husband's  life  and  property  ;  that  lie  had  absconded 
with  the  greater  part  of  liis  eftects,  and  was  now  shel- 
tered from  Justice  in  a  foreign  country.  AVhilst  1  was 
slill  lingering  in  the  metroptdis,  unwilling  to  comniuni- 
i  ate  such  intelligence  to  my  absent  husband,  a  dreadful 
iuiol'  reach'-d  me,  that  the  ship  in  which  he  had  sailed 
.,as  wrecked,  and  that  all  luul  perished.  It  may  ap- 
pear strange  to  you  that  I,  who  had  before  desponded, 
HOW  resisted  despair  :  that  I  clung  even  to  doubt  and 
suspence,  with  ol)stiuate  unbelief.  But  too  soon  the 
confirmation  came  of  this  fatal  news,  which  rendered 
nie  the  most  desolate  of  human  beings.  1  was  left  with- 
out money  in  a  land  of  strange  is  ;  of  your  father's  re- 
lations 1  knew  nothing,  but  that  he  had  renounced 
them  :  of  his  friends  as  little.  f»)r  they  had  been  estran- 
ged by  his  long  absenc*.  In  the  great  metrop(dis  I 
could  scarcely  ch;illcn;ve  a  single  acquaintance.  1  was 
precliuled  from  the  provision  to  which,  as  an  officer's 
widow,  I  should  have  been  entitled,  by  the  sal'^  of  my 
husband's  commission.  The  agent's  fraud  had  inter- 
ceptetl  wluitever  henelit  I  might  have  derived  from  other 
resources.  I  ha<!  no  means  of  retiirr.ing  to  my  native^, 
country,  and  had  I  even  been  lrans[)ortcd  tidther,  I  *i^ 
sliould  have  found  no  home.  My  family  were  all  scat- 
teri'd,  many  had  perished,  and  the  survivors  were  drawn 
to  the  Back  S<^ttl  "ments. 

<'  By  the'disposal  of  my  few  valuables,  I  raised  a 
small  smn,  very  inadequate  to  our  f  aure  subsislence. 
In  a  few  months  I  became  experienced  in  penury  and 
misery,  and  having  no  other  resource,  took  in  ])laiii 
work ;  in  which  I  persisted,  till  I  became  afllicted  witl* 
a  numbness  in  my  joints,  which  remlered  or-  incapable 
of  that  ex'M'tion.  Then,  indeed,  I  saw  no  help  under 
heaven^  and  ufteu  did  I  say^  I  shall  see  iny  child  perisl^ 


20  VALSINORE. 

in  a  land  of  sf ran.^ers.  Wo  were  lodji^ed  in  a  .garret, 
\vh!)sc  smoke-staint'd  walls  were  less  (iis^'ustiiij^  than  the 
squalid  looks  ami  coarse  brutal  manners  of  my  landlatly 
and  lier  other  inmates.  Often,  win  n  no  lon,i;;(r  able  to 
employ  my  hands  in  industry,  have  1  stolen  forth  with 
you,  dearest  Herbert,  haj)]))  to  escape;  awhile  from  my 
loathsome  quarters,  by  goin.i^  to  any  cinnch  or  meeting 
in  the  neiahborhood.  How  reluctantly  did  I  quit  those 
sacred  walls,  where  I  was  at  least  sheltered  fr(un  wan- 
ton ii2si:lt  i  witii  what  bitter  despondence  did  I  turn  from 
those  doors,  wl^ere  only  admission  was  offered  to  the 
wretched  and  the  destitute  ! 

At  length,  after  having  pawned  every  ai-ticle  of  the 
smallest  value,  I  was  enabled  to  resume  my  employment, 
and  had  just  pi'ocured  a  fresli  s!i])ply  of  work,  when  my 
landlady,  to  whom  I  had  been  for  some  weeks  in  ar- 
rears, abruptly  entering  my  wretched  apartment,  de- 
manded immediate  payment.  Not  having  morjey  enough 
to  discharge  the  debt,  I  besought  her  patience  till  the 
morrow :  she  despised  my  entreaties,  and  after  having 
cast  on  me  the  most  odious  aspersions,  insisted  tluit  I 
should  either  pay,  or  turn  out  that  very  night.  Terri- 
fi(Ml  by  her  abuse,  I  promised  to  depart  1  knew  not 
whither. 

"  Among  other  articles  left  in  pawn,  was  an  elegant 
seal  ring,  whicli  1  had  liitlierto  jjrescrve^l  for  you,  as 
a  last  relic  of  your  fatlier's  memory,  ami  which  I  jtrized 
far  bi'vond  its  value,  because  it  bore  his  name,  and  the 
ci'est  of  his  ancestors.  In  this  extreme  distress,  1  re- 
solved to  dispose  even  of  tliis  last  record,  of  n»y  happy 
days.  Tiie  shop  in  which  it  was  h'ft  was  at  some  dis- 
tance ;  but  I  determined  to  go  thither.  It  was  a  chill 
November  evening,  and  much  it  grieved  me  to  expose  my 
Herbert  to  the  damp  unwholesome  air;  but  to  trust  him 
from  iny  arms  was  imp  )ssii)le.  So,  wrapping  Viiy  cloak 
around  lou,  I  salli<'d  fortl),  a  sort  of  <le8p- rate  hope 
floating  in  my  mind  that  we  might  perhaps  die  together. 

«•  Wg  ha<l  not  pioceeded  far,  wlien  there  came  on  one 
of  those  dense  fogs  which  sometini*  s  cause  real  alarm. 
It  was  a  dark  and  fearful   obscurity ;  even   tlie  peoplcit 


w 


VALSTNOTIE ,  rli 

who  jostled  me.  as  tlicy  passed,  till  we  came  in  actual 
colli  act,  I'emuined  invisible.  1  know  iiiil  m  what  direc- 
tion I  was  procecdiiij^  ;  1  knew  as  little  wbv'tlicr  to  ad- 
vajjce  or  retreat ;  every  inonieiit  teriitird,  abused  or  in- 
sidted,  I  exclaimed,  "'And  is  this  F^n.a:lanJ.  tiie  r»f;ion 
ol'  eliarity  :iul  benevolence!"  I  ^\as  at  kiiiitli  ])itsbed 
<lo\vii.  and  must  iiave  been  trampled  undei'  toot,  but  tor  a 
ja;euilenian.  who,  diseovviiiij^  our  situiiliui,  raised  ns 
both  i!i  bis  arms,  a?id  findins^  me  stunned  by  the  fall, 
C(mducted  lis  to  a  chemist's  shop,  wiiere  be  used  proper 
means  fee  tny  recovery.  When  (  was  r^stn e;t  to  con- 
scioiisjii  ss,  my  fidi  heart  irlievec'.  itself  in  teais.  *'  Bo 
«a!-n.  be  compose<l,"  wei-e  tbefii-st  woris  that  met  mine 
ear:  an»i  in  a  voice  so  deep,  so  clear,  so  harmonions; 
tin'  first  impiessieu  tliey  J::;ave  me,  was.  that  frf  bein.(5 
translate<l  to  a  baj)pier  world.  I  1  oked  up,  and  beheld 
a  man,  not  a.a;ed,  ijut  vcnerai)le,  vvh?'S<  countenance  bad 
in  it  s  unethiuj;  beyond  frail  mort<dity  ;  so  benis;n,  so 
saintly,  yet  so  noWle,  so  majesiic.  He,pe  revived  in  my 
soul ;  and  wir  n.  seoin.e;  my  tears,  be  said,  *  Take  com- 
fort,' I  felt  C'ins<ded  already.  He  enq  iired  whither  t 
was  J^oin.a^.  I  named  the  street,  and  lie  pi  oniised  to  be 
our  i^uard  and  {^iiide.  When  we  readied  the  place,  I 
will  own  I  felt  ashamed  of  my  sad  errand  ;  but  it  was 
not  for  me  to  be  thus  delicate  ;  so  1  asked  for  the  riii.a:, 
and  bea^j^ed  to  receive  its  full  value.  The  man  declared 
lie  had  al''eady  advanced  nn.i'e  tlian  it  was  worth.  At 
this  news  I  staiCffered,  and  had  almost  fninted.  *  Ob, 
God  !'  cried  I,  *  and  what  will  become  of  me  r*  [  had  in- 
voluntarily turned  to  our  condiietor,  and  met  those  eyes 
that  Sv'emed  to  speak  only  of  pity   and   benevcdence. 

"  Let  me  see  therin.i^,"  cried  he,  »•[  will  he  the  pur- 
ebaser/'  With  these  words  beslipjied  into  my  liand  five 
{guineas,  and  tlien.  as  if  to  divei-t  my  attintion.  beu:an 
to  exaniiin'  the  imjn'ession  on  th"  seal.  On  observing 
tlie  name  (if  Altamout.  he  changed  countenance.  "\>'hoso 
crest  is  t.liis?"  *•  It  was  my  husband's."  *<  Ar.d  is  this 
your  name?'*  "  Tliat  name  Sir,  belon.2;s  to  nie  and  this 
boy,  who  has  now  no  other  friend."  '*  And  have  you 
then  no  connexions  in  this  country  ?"     **  No  Sir,  I   was 


,i,  VALSINOUE. 

born  in  Amprica  ;  mvli(isl)an(l  brouglit  me  to  En  inland  ; 
he  was  then  an  oliicei*,  but  sold  bis  commission.*'  A 
commission!  and  was  he  not  j^rcatly  yom"  chler?" 
<*  Only  fifteen  yt^avs."  Heraise<!  his  eyes  to  heaven, 
with  a  piteous  expivssion  :  then  he  breathed  ade('psii2:h, 
as  if  hiss')id  was  de})artin,2; :  but  he  shed  no  tear;  and 
I  felt  that  it  would  have  been  a  sort  of  sacrilege  to  see 
him  weep. 

Turning  at  length  to  me,  as  if  he  liad  been  suddenly 
roused  fi'.an  a  di'eam,  he  exclaimed,  <'  And  you  are  my 
sister  in  affliction,  bereaved  and  desolate  ;  let  me  guide 
your  steps."  I  ai^ain  leaned  on  his  arm  ;  but  he  no>y  ' 
shook  so  viidently  that  [  had  to  lend  him  s;ipp<»i"t.  At' 
length  he  said,  <«  I  shall  restore  yo.ui*  ring,  and  to-mor- 
row you  must  give  me  your  history."  When  we  reach- 
ed my  sordid  door,  I  was  abashed  that  he  should  see  me 
enter  s  uch  a  place.  Peih  aps  lie  guessed  my  f :>el  i  n  i\s,  yet  he 
insisted  on  mounting  to  my  garret ;  he  gazed  all  around 
on  the  dreary  walls,  the  almost  fireh-ss  chimney,  tln^  bare 
rug  and  uncurtained  bed  ;  and,  seating  himself,  exclaim- 
ed, <  I  feel  I  am  punished  for  obduracy  ;  what  a  lesson 
for  humanity  !  Tell  me  by  what  strange  fatality  you  are 
thi'S  cruelly  reduced.' 

Mv  story  was  soon  told,  and  when  it  was  ended,  I 
offered  to  confirm  it  by  doc-jments,  stich  as  the  certificate 
of  my  mari'iage,  and  the  iiistrimient  by  w  hich  yoiii*  fa- 
ther had  snld  his  commission.  He  passed  his  hand  over 
his  forehead.  "  No,  no,  I  want  no  other  evidence  ;  I 
have  that  within."  striking  his  bi'east,  *'  which  voucIks 
for  you  :  too  well  have  1  presaged  that  you  wercmv  sis-^ 
ter  in  affliction.  And  that  poor  boy, — I  perceive  the 
resemblance  ;  he  is  like  his  family."  "  How  !"  cried  I, 
with  involmtary  transport,  "did  you  kntnv  my  hus- 
band ?"  He  cast  down  his  eyes.  "  I  iiave  seen  Ijim 
once,  and  in  a  moment  never  to  be  forgotten."  These 
words  \>'ere  miirmured  in  a  low,  deep  tone,  with  fear- 
ful solenmity.  A  cloud  passed  over  his  countenance,  and 
another  piercing  sigh  burst  from  his  heart.  At  length 
he  arose  abruptly.  *<  You  shall  not  stay  in  this  purga- 
tory another  hour :  come,  my  inn  will  supply  better  uc- 


i 


VAiSlNORE.  23 

commorL'iHon  for  tlic  night.  To-morrow  I  leave  this 
great cit^,  n'^vtrto  retian,  I  am  like  \oii,  avvaiulerer, 
an  iiiiive  sal  ar^^n,"  He  then  bade  uic  follow  him  ;  and 
there  was  sohk thing  in  liitj  manner  which  eonipclleU  obe- 
dience. 

I  si'lf^red  him  to  conduct  us  to  an  inn,  where,  at  his 
request,  a  c>mf<»rtable  apartment  \>  as  assigned  for  our 
use,  with  suitable  acconunoclation.  1  saw  him  no  more 
that  tiight :  the  next  morning  the  servant  informed  me, 
th  '  f  >r' ign  gentleman  (for  by  that  a])peHalitn  only  was 
he  .lisfinguish '«l)  was  g  oie  «»ut,  bit  had  left  word  that 
lies'ioul  1  e\p' el  to  und  me  there  in  tlje  aftei-noon.  I 
waited  witii  a  conxiciion  that  he  would  not  be  un]ninc- 
tual  ;  n  »r  was  i  deceived  in  my  expcctaticnis  :  Ir^  ciune 
atthe  hour  appointed,  and  his  aspi'et  was  cn'tw  and  se- 
rene. He  en'j;iii'ed  where  1  had  lived  (»n  in}  first  arri- 
val in  England,  and  earnestly  reconnnfnded  to  me  to 
return  to  I3r.ic!;dale.  He  (.hen  restored  the  ling,  but 
wiHr)ut  any  allusion  to  what  ha<I  passed  the  prece«ling 
evrning.  Lie  sat  about  half  an  h  -ir;  tin  n  rising  fi  ni 
his  Stat,  p  vt  lot  1  m.\  bands  a  p;)cket-bo<«k,  exclainiifig, 
in  asohMUu  voice,  "Be  tliis  tlie  meijoiial  of  our  meet- 
ing." He  ih?n  took  you  in  ins  ai'ins-  aiid  1  p«TCi  ivc  d  a 
tear  drop  on  your  cheek  ;  but  ho  soon  put  you  down, 
without  any  earressos  or  any  words  of  tender  endear- 
ment; and  b^for^- I  coiild  ariieolatc  a  word,  he  said 
<*  Fai-ewell  !*'  and  vanished.  I  started  frf)m  my  s;  at  ; 
I  wo  d  1  liave  call*  d  him  back,  butan  impression  of  awe 
restrain  -d  my  iiupati^^nce  ;  I  returned  to  tlicroom.  and 
op'Miingthe  pocket-book,  found  tlie  foll-iwing  letler  : 

•»  In  this  pocket-book  you  will  find  a  paper  aiilhori- 
zii'g  you  to  clainj  a  c<"rtain  sum  vested  in  your  and  your 
son's  name,  whidi  will  at  least  preserve  you  fi'oni  penu- 
ry. Cl»ei-is!i  this  ias  sci^n  of  a  nobl'"  house,  atid  may 
I  h«^  prove  a  bl'ssing  to  bis  mother,  and  an  honor  to  his 
co.mtry!  1  am  heaving  this  country,  in  which  !  find  no 
plaef.  I  am  a  poor  ( a&t-away  ;  but  wherever  1  may- 
be drif'ttd  b>  destiny,  be  assured  of  niy  fervent  pie.^ers 
for  your  peace  and  prosperity.    It  has  pleased  God  to 


.J" 


2*  YALSINORE. 

make  me  your  comforter,  and  thus  to  administer  to  my 
own  consolation. 

Valsinore/* 

By  these  papers,  I  found  myself  entitled  to  claim  three 
thousand  poun.ls  in  the  3  porcin's,  to  whicli,  for  our 
imnif'diatc  necessities,  our  hcnefactor  had  added  a  bill 
for  80).  so  carelully  had  he  consiflt  r(Mi  every  circumstance 
in  my  situation.  It  will  be  needlpss  to  say  how  much 
I  was  o(»pressed  by  gratitu<ie.  It  was  some  relief  to  my 
full  heart  to  ad'>pt  liis  kind  suggestion  of  returning  to 
JBeachdale ;  stlli  better  would  it  liave  satisfit'd  me  to 
have  iad  some  sjonger  test  of  obedience.  It  remains 
for  you,  my  son,  to  discharge  the  debt  I  owe  to  this  mys- 
terinis  being,  who  has  been  to  me  a  messenger  of  hope 
and  mercy.  May  you  but  fulfil  his  wishes — and  your 
mother  must  be  liappy." 

Here  a^iss  Giadwiw  paused,  and  Mrs.  Bruce  said,  tak- 
ing up  the  p.»ek'.;t-hook,  *'  I  pres  -rved  for  you  this  sacred 
relic  of  Valsitiore."  *'  And  the  letter  !"  exclaimed  Her- 
bert. "  It  is  here,'*  she  re[)lied  :  "  [  give  it  into  your 
possession."  Her  son  received  it  with  reverence,  and 
eageily  en(|ui!*cd  if  she  had  over  since  seen  him.  «'  Nev- 
er, Herbert,  nor  am  I  in  the  least  degree  able  to  divine 
liis  particular  motives  for  showering  on  me  such  munifi- 
cence." "  He  mentioned  my  father  ?"  *<  Yes,  but  I 
am  wholly  unacquainted  with  any  circumstance  in  your 
father's  life  which  could  have  related  \y)  suci)  a  man  ;  yet 
I  cannot  doubt  tliat  there  was  some  secret  cause  ft)r  his| 
agitation  on  discovering  the  name  of  Altamont.  And 
now,"  continued  she,  ♦'  I  have  only  to  add,  that  on  my 
mairiage  with  Mr.  Bruce,  he  insisttid  on  securing  Val- 
sinore's  bounty  for  your  sole  advantage.  It  is  wliolly 
yoijrs ;  and  I  doubt  not  you  will  use  it  wisely." 
«  And,"  rrj^ined  Celia,  who  had  hitherto  been  silent, 
«  i  trust  ^o/^/i/«"  She  fixed  her  eyes  on  Herbert,  who 
was  at  tiiat  !u  >m'Mit  s  )  little  disposed  to  bear  the  scroti-  , 
ny  that  he  siidil  uly  <larted  froin  the  room,  and  walked  ^ 
out,  invoking  the  epii  its  of  solitude  and  meditatiia  to 
^m  his  perturbed  iuiud.    This  romantic  friend  gazing 


i 


VALSIKORE.  25 

after  liim,  exclaimed,  <♦  The  spell  works  ;  lie  has  re- 
ceived (he  inipressioii ;  that  K'tler  shall  be  to  him  like 
tlie  inscription  oil  tl»c  bust  of  Brutus,  <  Thou  sleepest.' 
Brutus  awoke,  and  so  sliall  Altaniont ;  he  is  nearly 
ci.«;hteen,  and  oii,e;ht  to  put  on  the  manly  toga.  Ah  !  I 
sec  it  in  his  eyes  ;  he  will  rcstoic  the  honors  of  his 
house.  Trust  me,  he  is  born  to  he  a  peer  of  the  i*calm, 
and  to  rival  the  noblest  of  his  ancestors." 


CHAPTER    HI. 

WHOEVER  lias  been  suddenly  presented  with  a 
iivini^  example  of  virtue,  loni^  since  cherished  in  the 
dreams  of  fancy,  but  never  before  attested  on  the  re- 
cords of  experience,  will  easily  conceive  with  wliat  rap- 
turous emotions  Altamont  contemplated  the  sublime  clia- 
raeter  of  Valsinore.  Hitlicrto  Ins  sensibilities  had  been 
restrained  by  a  situation  which  .e;ave  no  scope  for  ener- 
gy «)r  entlnisiusm.  In  the  respectable  Mr.  Bruee,  he 
had  an  object  (»f  esteem ;  in  his  mother,  of  tenderness 
.ind  affection  ;  in  Valhuicy  he  had  a  companion  for  his 
gayer  hours  ;  but  no  where  did  he  find  the  bcin,^  who 
answered  to  hiu»self,  who  could  paitake  his  hi,t',hvr  feel- 
ings, and  at  once  excite  and  satisfy  liis  noblest  faculties. 

The  mystery  of  Valsinore  had  revealed  to  him  his 
o^\n  lieart,  and  the  ardent  romantic  spirit,  so  long 
latent  and  repressed,  burst  forth  ;  his  mental  horizon 
was  suddenly  expanded,  a  now  glory  seemed  to  eman- 
ate on  the  eartii  ;  he  felt  ennobled  by  the  thoughr  that 
he  belonged  to  the  same  nattire  with  so  exalted  a  i-.-ing, 
**  And  slialL  I  never  sec  him  !"  cried  he ;  '<  tliis  tuan 
©f  sorrows,  as  he  calls  himself,  bereaved  and  destitute, 
yet  lives  to  comfort  the  hilpless  and  afflicted.  At  this 
notut'iit  even  gratitude  was  absovbed  in  a  stronger  sen- 
tiiiicnt.  He  ivad  and  re-read  the  letter,  and  dwelt  with 
mingled  diiUdencc  and  pride  on  the  passage  in  which  he 

C 


26  VAISINOEE.      • 

was  mentioneil  as  a  future  honor  to  his  country.  For 
the  first  time  lie  remembered,  with  complacency,  the 
dignity  of  his  family,  and  became  ambitious,  not  only 
of  tlisdiiction,  but  of  excellence. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  flattering  to  Miss  Glad- 
win's prognostics  than  to  have  witnessed  his  perturba- 
tion ;  but  when  he  returned  to  the  domestic  circle  lie  jiad 
resumed  his  wonted  self-command  ;  and  as  he  had  the 
defect  incident  to  all  chai'acters  of  extreme  susceptibili- 
ty, that  of  being  disposed  to  distrust  tl»e  sympathy  of 
others,  he  struggled  to  conceal  tliose  high  impassioned 
feelings  for  which  he  expected  neither  pai  tici])ation  nor 
indulgence.  In  vain,  therefore,  did  Lelia  watcli  iiis 
countenance,  in  wliich  the  strong  impressions  he  had 
lately  received  were  no  longer  legible. 

In  a  few  hours,  Valiancy  had  also  recovered  his  spi- 
rits, and  freely  indulged  his  satiric  vein  against  the  in- 
constancy of  women.  Tlie  next  <hiy  he  received  a  letter 
from  his  grandfather,  requesting  liim  to  visit  his  mother, 
for  whose  conduct  he  seemed  di.si>osed  to  suggest  excu- 
ses ;  for  his  lordship  was  the  most  candid  of  all  human  I 
beings,  whenever  he  had  no  interest  to  be  otherwise.  In 
tlie  present  instance  lie  considered  tlsat  the  evil  WeiS  with- 
out a  remefly  :  and  since  he  was  fully  sensible  of  his  own 
serious  obl'-gations  to  De  Lille,  he  was,  perhaps,  in  his 
heart  not  very  sorry,  that  his  dauglitcr-in-la\v  had  sa- 
ved :;im  the  trouble  of  repaying  them  ;  finuUy  he  rciiect- 
ed,  that  his  grands') n's  interests  were  not  essentially  in- 
jured, si/,ce  of  her  joititure  he  could  not  be  deprived ; 
an'.'  of  l.cr  remain  ing  property,  should  s!ie  survive  her 
pr  s  nt  husband,  slie  might  dispose  in  his  favor. 

Lac'n'iy  f  r  lue  success  of  his  negociati(Ui.  he  conceal- 
ed in  his  own  b<is>jn»  this  consolat(>rv  rei5ecti»»n,  or  it 
would  have  }>rodMce{i  an  effect  far  diiferent  from  what 
he  wis'ied  in  tl«e  higls  spirited  Valiancy ;  wJio,  after  two 
or  Ihreff  other  ineftVclual  attempts  at  reconciliation,  at 
length  graciously  consented  to  meet  his  mother  in  Lon- 
don, on  tiic  e3{.press  condition  tl-at  there  should  be  no 
witness  of  then*  interview.  He  was  induced  to  make 
this  restriction,  by  having  discovered,  in  his  corres- 


yAtSINORE.  37 

pondence  with  Lord  Marmiton,  that  liis  mother  had 
triDisfoi red  to  hint  licr  interest  with  the  yruiig  ludy  pre- 
viously destinofl  to  liis  hroth'-r  :  and  that  much  of  her 
anxiety  to  ''ffect  the  r  conciliation  arose  IV:ii\  her  zeal 
to  seciiH'  Adehi  and  her  foiiune  to  Ijcr  own  fcuniiy. 
Tliere  was  a  natiiral  pirverscness  in  Vaih\nc>'s  tem- 
per, which,  though  softened,  was  not  subdued  :  to  have 
persisted  in  open  hostility  to  his  niotlier  wojiUI  have  giv- 
en hidi  pain  ;  hnt  in  lirectly  to  thwart  her  views,  and 
mortify  her  expectations,  atf'>r(h>d  him  extirme  plea- 
sure.— lie  was  hiij>py  to  have  found  out  the  means  of 
inflictina;  punish aient  at  the  very  moment  when  he  seem- 
ed t(»  have  overlooked  the  delinquency  ;  and  when  he 
met  Mrs.  De  Lille,  affected  to  have  c<inceived  an  anti- 
pathy to  her  niece  in  childhood  ;  ]m  fitestinj?  he  won- 
dered his  brother  could  have  been  induced  to  think  of 
her. 

He  was  infinitely  amused  by  her  solicitude  to  remove 

this  prejudice:  he  listened  with  malicious  exultation  to 

I   her  assurances  that  Adela  was  so  much   impn)ved  in 

I   person  and  manner  that  he  could  no  longer  know  her ; 

I   and  with  contempt,  to  her  repeated  insinuations,  that 

j  whenever  he  went  abroad  it  would  be  incumbent  on  hini 

I  to  visit  his  uncle  Baron  Rouvigny,  mIio  washy  birth  aii 

I  Irishman,  but  had   entered  the  Austrian  sei-vice,  and 

held  a  post  of  considerable  eminence  under  the  Emperor 

Joseph. 

Valiancy  assented  to  all  she  said,  secretly  wishing 
that  this  visit  should  be  deferred  till  his  cousin's  return 
to  England  ;  for  as  great  part  of  her  fortune  had  been 
bequeathed  by  her  maternal  grandfather,  on  condition 
that  she  should  marry  an  Englishman,  the  Baron  had 
consented  that  she  should  always  make  her  residence  i« 
this  country. 

Flattered  by  her  son's  concessions,  Mrs.  De  Lille 
parted  from  him  with  strong  professions  of  attachment, 
and  two  days  after,  accompanied  by  her  husband,  her 
niece,  and  Cordelia,  embarked  for  Ostend,  in  her  way 
to  Frankfort.     The  latter  sent,   ou  this   occasion,    a 

C2 


VAXSIKrORE. 

farowell  letter  to  Mrs.  Bruce,  cxpressiiij?,  uitli  mTidi 
simple  pathos,  her  grief  and  surprise  at  not  having  been 
allowed  to  revisit  Beachdale :  she  begged  to  be  remem- 
bered most  gratef'illy  to  Herbert,  but  never  alhided  to 
the  manuscript  left  in  her  friend's  custody.  She  seemed 
already  to  have  learnt  reserve,  and  to  have  submitted  to 
i-estraint. 

Altamont  would  have  missed  his  little  interesting  pu- 
pil, had  he  not  been  now  completely  absorbed  by  the  idea 
of  Valsinore.  Since  Valiancy's  dci)ai'tiire  he  had  indul- 
ged a  tliousand  romiaitic  dreams  in  his  solitary  rambles, 
and  was  happy  to  escape  from  any  society  which  inter- 
fered with  these  delightful  speculations.  ^Miss  Gladwin 
observed  the  change  with  delight,  Mrs.  Bruce  with 
alarm,  her  husband  with  regret.  It  was  in  vain  to  ui'ge 
on  him  the  necessity  of  clioosing  a  profession  ;  tlie  young 
man  revolted  at  its  limitation  :  he  no  longer  desired  to 
go  to  college ;  he  rather  wished  to  ex])lorc  some  other 
country,  with  the  vague  hope  of  meeting  with  the  myste- 
rious stranger.  At  this  time  an  incident  occurred  the 
most  favourable  to  his  wishes.  By  tiie  death  of  his  ma- 
ternal uncle,  a  small  estate  near  Lausanne  devolv«^d  on 
Mr.  Bruce,  who  having  always  ho})od  to  spend  his  last* 
days  in  Switzerland,  joyfully  resigned  iiis  cuiacy,  and 
dismissing  h.is  two  p  ipils  wiiom  he  had  received  since 
Vallfir.ey's  establishment  at  college,  ])i'epared  to  fix  his 
residence  in  Switzerland.  ]Mrs.  Bruce  readily  acquies- 
ced in  the  c'liange.  inured  in  youth  to  adversity,  she 
8u])mittcd  gracefully  to  all  the  ligliter  trials  of  domestic 
life  ?  and  though  proud  to  consider  her  son  as  an 
Englishman,  she  had  no  diflSculty  in  consenting  to  love 
her  husband's  coimtry  as  her  own.  The  only  objection 
she  could  have  formed  to  the  proposal  was  obviated  by 
the  ardor  vith  which  Altamont  offered  to  accompany 
them,  and  which  rendered  her  satisfaction  compleat.- 
But  it  was  otherwise  with  Miss  Gladwin,  who  ceased 
not  to  em]))oy  all  her  emphatic  arguments  against  a 
waste  of  talenls  so  contrary,  as  she  conceived,  to  the 
wishes  of  Valsinoi'C.  ^, 

She  had  been  one  morning  expatiating  on  this  subject 


with  even  more  thiin  ».  ri^y,  wiien  a  letter  arrived 

addressed  tor  Altamu)'...      .  iic  cluiiaetn;  v>;i8  ur.kuown, 
aiid  lie  tore  open  tlic  seal  with  impatience  i  h'.n  ij;rcal; 
was  his  surprise  wlicii  a  bill  for  i  ;iOl.  drojiped  iVoiu  tlio 
envelope,  which  contained  only  t'l.so  woril.s,  »<  Aerept 
the  enclosed  to  en:>l)le  you  to  pursue  yoi'i'  Htudies  at  col- 
lege, to  b-'come  an  honor  to  your  coiir.try, — troni  yom* 
father's  friend." — "  And  does  iic  really  exist?"  cried 
AUamont.     «  No  dnubt  he  docs,''  echoed  Miss  Glad- 
win, who  had  carefully  watched  the  variation  in  his 
connitetiance,  ♦*  and  he  comniar.ds  you  to  t!;o  t;)  colles^e." 
— '•  Surely,"  c»'i''d   Mrs.  Erijce,    "  this  cannot  C(nno 
from  our  benefaiior,  the  writing  is  so  diiiereiit." — «*  Hut 
tl)ere  is  the  initial  of  his  n:une.  nn  ihe  seal,"  .said  Miss 
Ghulwi)u — "ThatV."  rejoined  AUamont,  "  migiitsuit 
"N'allancy,  but  then  he  is  ignorant  of  tiic  circumstance." 
Here  xsVms  Cladwin-poi.ited  out  tiie  jihrase  ♦<  an  honor 
to  his  country,"  so  exactly  corrospondijig  with  the  sen- 
tence employed  by  Valsinore.     Tliis  evidence  a])peai"ed 
almost  conclusive  even  with  the  rational,  judicious  pas- 
tor, when  his  wile  sf;ggested  tliat  the  enclosure  might 
liaps  come  from  De  Lille,  in  return  for  her  attenti- 
t  ,,8  to  his  (laughter  ;  and  site  fancied  she  had  once  men- 
t  tioned  the  circumstance  to  Miss  Gladwin  in  Cordelia's 
presence,  who  might  easily  have  furnished  her  father 
with  the  necessary  hints  for  as.-^uming  the  character  of 
Valsinore.     The  downrigiit  Mr.  Briifc  could   see  no 
cause  for  such  subtle  refinement,     Besides,  De  Liile  was 
too  vain  to  hide  Ins  bsoeficcnce ;  Altamont  recoiled  from 
the  supposition ;    2vliss  i^iladwin  protested  against  it ; 
and  the  subject  was  finally  dismissed  for  another  ecjually 
interesting.     It  was  decided  that  Altamont  should  lose 
no  time  in  going  to  Cambridge,  and  that  his  visit  to 
Switzerland  should  be  deferred  to  a  later  period.     His 
mother  endeavored  to  subdue  her  selfish  regrets,  and 
"   f.  Bruce,  happy  to  observe  tliat  tlic  mind  was  roused 
ii  om  its  dream  of  romance,  no  lv)nger  insisted  on  the 
Subject  of  a  profession,  but  trusted  to  chance  and  oppor- 
tunity fur  Altamont's  making  a  final  dccisiou* 

C3 


TALSlNOIiE, 


CHAPTER   l\ 


TiiK  reunion  of  the  two  youns;  friends  was  a  soiiree- 
of  mutual  pleasure:  thoug!)  essentially  difForenl  in  char- 
acter, tiicy  were  now  associated  in  similar  pursuits,  and, 
aspired  without  rivalry  to  the  same  object :  but  Valian- 
cy, was  still  as  little  capable  as  ever  of  sympatliizing  in 
Altamoiit's  ronuictic  esitluisiasm  ;  and  Altaniont,  to  es- 
cape the  raillery  of  Valiancy,  was  often  at  some  ])ains 
to  cor.ceai  his  owr.  feelings.  Thus,  tiiough  he  !>ad  now 
coiniiiunicated  all  he  knew,  he  was  far  from  contcssin]^ 
all  he  expected,  of  his  mysterious  benefactor ;  and  Val- 
larscy,  tliough  struck  with  the  circumstance,  could  not 
help  hazardin;^  the  facetious  surmise,  that  the  late  dona- 
tion had  come  from  the  presiding  genius  of  love  and  mar- 
riage, the  fjiiry  Amatonda,  by  which  name  he  always- 
designated  Miss  Gladwin,  *'  You  forget,"  said  Alta- 
mont,  "  that  the  amount  doubles  her  income.'*  *»  Re- 
ally that  is  a  very  impertinent  suggestion  now,"  an- 
swered Valiancy ;  '<  however,  who  knows  but  she  may 
be  in  possession  of  some  wonderworking  talisman?"' 
'•  W  ho  knows,  indeed,"  said  Altamont,  ♦*  but  I  have 
been  a  changeling,  and  that  I  shall  at  some  future  period 
become  an  emperor." 

Witli  all  these  points  of  disagreement,  there  subsisted 
between  the  young  men  a  sti'ong  and  sincere  attachment. 
There  was  no  clasiiing  of  interest ;    no    contention  for 
pre-eminence.     Valiancy  was  content  with  popularity  ; 
Altamont  aspired  to  fanje.     The  former   slighted   the 
muses  for  the  graces,  and  was  more  lunbitious  of  pos- j 
sessing  wit  than  ehiquence  ;  he  cultivated  his   taste  for 
satire,  and  was  alvv  ays  throwing  out  epigrammatic  cen- 
sures ;  not  because  he  was  ill-natured,  but  because   hei 
aimed  at  being  piquant,     Altamont  on  the  contrary,  em- 1 
ployed  no  arts  to  extort   applause;    saw  few  by  whose 
*  ^4        notice  he  could  be  flattered,  and  none  with  whose  praise 
^e  should  be  satisfied.    In  one  word  as  Cclia  once  oh- 


VALSl]SrOR£.  31 

served,  with  her  usual  aptness  at  classical  allusion,  Al- 
taiuoiit  would  iiave  accepted  only  of  the  triuinph,  whilst 
^'a]lancy  would  have  canvassed  I'oe  the  oration. 

I'be  two  fi'i(  lids  spent  the  lotii^  autumnal  vacation  at 
Loi'd  Mainuton's  seat,  which  was  distant  about  twenty- 
five  miles  li'om  Beaclidalo.  Aiuoni;  the  otlit  r  visitors 
collected  by  his  htvsijitality,  was  a  young  man,  sonic 
yeais  older  than  Allamonr,  who  had  been  lately  recom- 
mended to  his  Lordship's  patronaj^e.  Llis  name  was 
"^Voodville  ;  born  in  tiie  condition  of  a  s;cntleman,  and 
accustomed  rather  to  confer  favors  than  to  solicit  them, 
he  was  alto!i|;other  new  to  the  state  «»f  dejiendencc.  He 
had  lost  llis  father  in  inraney  ;  his  education  was  domes- 
tie  ;  and  the  sensibilities  of  his  soel  had  been  fostered  by 
inatenral  tenderness.  Endued  with  exquisite  sympa- 
thies, and  a  delicacy  which  sliouldsccm  to  belone:  exclu- 
sively to  the  female  chaiacter,  he  wanted  but  the  boons 
of  fortune  to  have  been  the  ti  lend  and  benefactor  of  man- 
kin«l  ;  but  his  mother,  v  ho  had  been  left  oicumbercd 
with  a  law-suit,  after  a  loii;^  interval  of  suspence,  was 
sudtieiily  by  its  unfavorable  termination  reduced  to  a 
small  stipend,  whieli  beinsj  only  for  ler  life,  secured  no 
provisi'm  to  her  hi  loved  Jl'ustaee.  lieinj^like  tlie  rest 
of  llis  family,  a  Catholic,  he  was  excluded  by  his  reli- 
gion fn.m  most  of  the  professi<ins  :  and  by  his  habits  of 
eleejanceand  retinenient,  unfitted  for  ordinary  pursuits 
and  vulirarocci.palioriS.  They  had  hitherto  residejl  in 
abeautiful  rctisement.  in  thetvorHi  of  England  ;  but  it 
was  too  painful  to  remain  in  tiie  same  nei,ii,!i!)erl:ood,ex- 
citini^  ])ity,  where  they  isad  f-jnuerly  dispens-d  ehaiity. 
They  therefore  removed  to  avillas;e  near  London,  where 
the  aft'ctionat'- mother  tiattered  liersejf  it  was  iirp  ssi- 
ble,  but  with  all  their  run  <  rous  and  respeetahlof!  ieids, 
they  sho'ild  m^^et  \Mths'>nu  who  were '»)ih  Milling';  aud 
able  to  nrakc  ex<  rtions  i  f  intenst  in  favoi'of   her  son. 

Of  all  men,  ])erhaps  Woudville  was  tlie  m;  S(  ii  reslsU- 
l)ly  eiie;a.e;ina;;  but  the  least  likely  to  forc^^  Itis  way  to 
pi'cfevment :  not  «inly  his  (h^lieaey  rev.»ltetl  from  the 
Bieannrss  of  solieilali'n  ;  bui  his  hc.-ntM,  l.is  iute.2:i'ity5 
aud  cveuliis  bcnovolciice.    He  was  always  piucin^-  Uiiu- 


VAXSlWORr,. 

^solf  in  the  situjition  of  those  from  wlmm  he  expected  as- 
sistance :  his  caivlid  mind  suggested  the  various  calls  on 
their  duty?  the  11  iunerous  claimants  for  their  influence  j 
ho  was  grieved  to  occupy  their  precious  moments ;  griev- 
ed to  he  the  occasion  of  intercepting  one  of  their  social 
pleasures.  But  if  his/rie;i(/ liad  to  ask  another/rie?iff, 
tbi'  his  sake  to  be  exp;)sed  to  i-udeness  and  repulse,  he 
\vas  oppressed  by  gratitude;  he  was  overwlielmed  with 
thankfulness;  whatever  success  resulted  from  the  mag- 
nanimous effort,  liis  genei'ous,  suscr,])tihle  soul  could  set 
no  limits  to  the  kindness  and  the  obligation. 

>Yith  such  feminine  diffidence,  and  susceptibility, 
Woodville  was  ccitain  to  bo  neglected  and  forgotten.  In 
the  coarse  of  a  few  months,  he  learnt  from  experience, 
not  indeed  to  suspect  a  promise,  (for  of  thai  his  honora- 
ble nature  was  not  capuble.)  but  to  distrust  its  pei'form- 
ance.  Still  his  heart  resisted  chagrin,  in  suhnntting  to 
disappointment ;  he  was  so  suscejJtiblc  of  enthusiasm,  so 
tremblingly  alive  to  the  interests,  the  pm'suits,  the  pleas- 
ures of  others,  he  was  so  mne!i  gratified  by  participa- 
tion, so  accessible  t^^  all  amiable  and  happy  inllucnces, 
that  he  secmeu  to  share  the  felicity  he  w  itnessed ;  and 
w  hen  he  was  admitted  to  some  cheerful  domestic  circle, 
forgot  his  own  mortifications,  and  felt  that  he  was  satisft- 
c(L  Hitherto,  howevei',  he  was  but  little  acrjuainted 
w  it!i  real  adversity.  His  mother's  stipend,  small  as  it 
was,  secured  them  from  penury ;  honor,  delicacy,  in 
some  degree  supplied  to  both  the  place  of  discretion. 
They  contracted  no  debts,  and  cheerfully  submitted  to 
privations  to  preserve  tranquillity.  Woodville  had  still 
access  to  elegant  socieiy  ;  and  his  mother,  though  she 
renounced  the  world  for  herself,  yet  for  his  sake,  was 
anxious  to  preserve  their  common  connexions  ;  and  when 
she  saw  his  preparations  to  visit  those  she  had  once  hos- 
pitably entertained  at  her  own  table,  was  flattered  by  a 
secret  presage  of  his  approaching  fortune.  Among  his 
various  well-wishers,  he  at  length  obtained  an  introduc- 
tion to  Lord  Marmiton,  who  was  well  pleased  to  add  to 
liis  list  of  dependents,  a  gentleman  of  Woodville's  ap- 
pearance, aiiU  cordially  invited  him  for  the  shooting  sea- 


VAXSIJrORE.  33 

soil,  to  his  splendid  niaiision.  Woodvillo  was  so  toucl'cd 
by  (he  iinoKju'ettMl  kiiK'ni'ss.  tliat  without  shariiic;  in  liis 
niotli'^r's  sanpi'dine  aiiticiiiations,  he  was  fullof  e;iatitudc 
and  delii^^ht ;  for  when  he  ri  .H'ivcd  hom  another  that 
dclicatc!  attrntion  which  his  own  heart  wouhl  liavc  dic- 
tated, he  rejoiced  not  merely  for  his  own  sake,  hut  for 
the  credit  of  human  nature  ;  and  said  to  himself,  ♦«  I  am 
salisfird."  UiuUr  such  ideasina;  aT;s;)iccs  was  Alta- 
mont's  acquaintance  formed  \\  ithNVoodville.  w  ho  wasevcr 
afterwards  accustomed  to  onsider  tliis  ciictimstance  as 
one  of  the  few  bris:ht  specks  in  liis  exist«'nce.  liis  soci- 
ety was  an  incaleidahle  improvement  to  his  youn.a;  friend ; 
since  Mdodville  liad  wisiiom  for  every  h(;dy  but  himself, 
and  condemned,  by  his  prec'cpls,  even  the  romance  iio 
sanctioned  \\ith  Ids  example.  In  ins  private  conversa- 
tions with  Aliasnont,  he  strenuously  recommended  him  to 
pursue  the  bar.  for  which  he  possessed  tal^its.  ♦'  No 
man,'*  added  he,  breathina;  a  conscious  sij^h,  *'  can  so 
truly  a]>preciate  tlie  advantage  of  a  pro^^ssion,  as  the 
man  who  is  without  one."  lie  encouraged  not  the  vis- 
ionary hope  of  meeting  Valsinore.  ♦»  Make  lionor," 
said  he  <•  your  first  object,  and  leave  to  chance  the 
rest." 

W ith  all  his  ration alit}\  however,  there  were  some 
Sul)ject.son  which  Woodvillc  vied  witli  Altiimont  in  en- 
thusiastic sentiment :  lie  had  an  ardent  belief  in  human 
excellence,  and  for  human  errors  uiibounded  charity  : 
never  was  there  a  more  liherjil  or  Irenevolent  faith. 

In  tliis  delightful  intercourse  nothing  was  w:(?itingbut 
mutual  ennfidonc  ;  but  the  lUdicacy  of  Woodvi'.k's  mind 

(dted  fi'om  a  full   disclosure  of  his  situation.     Why 

. mhl  he  sadden  his    friend   with  the  representation  of 

e\  i!s  he  could  not  redress  ?     ^^'Ily  abridge  the  few  brief 

.    imenls  of  happiness,  by   anti(i|)ations  of  future  care 

i|    embarrassment  ?     This    fatal   jieriod   a])proache(l 

>ner  than  he  expected.  liis  mother  was  suddenly  at- 
I  ked  by  alarming  symptoms,  and  he  hastened  back  to 
her  humble  home,  cmly  to  watch  one  night  by  h  >r  pillow, 
and  S!  c  her  die.  On  the  first  news  of  her  illness,  he 
had  flit  too  much  for  her  to  feel  for  himself  j  grief  exelu- 


34  VALSINORB. 

dcd  all  sordid  participation  Nvitli  care  ;  povci-ty  was  for- 
gottm,  and  every  want,  or  privation,  of  which  tlic  heart 
was  not  sensible,. 

Onqiiittiiii^-Lord  Marmiton's  splendid  mansion,  he 
had  made  no  provision  for  this  event ;  and  His  Lordship, 
who  had  ncvrv  iiitenchid  t<i  offer  any  thing  better  than 
polite  attentions,  sisnTercd  him  to  depart  with  abundant 
pr<>fossions  of  concern,  and  no  allusion  to  his  former 
promises,  which  Woodville  nevtr  ar.^ant to  recall  to  his 
memory.  It  v»'as  enougli  for  hiiiK  that  he  had  recived 
kindness  :  he  had  not  only  too  nnich  df^licriey  to  be  im- 
portunate ;  he  was  too  grat'ful  to  be  iiiti  sisive. 

Altamont  heard  with  deep  concern  of  Ids  fri'  nd's  do- 
mestic loss,  and  believed  he  fuilv  sympathized  in  his 
feelinsis.  Little  did  lie  think  for  what  woisc  cares,  what 
revolting  puisuits,  his  pensive  friend  was  compelled  to 
forsake  his  cherislicd  parent's  lonely  grave.  Little  did 
he  ijnagine  in  what  difficulties  he  was  involved,  or  what 
bitter  caiiso  there  was  to  inoiirn  the  loss  of  freedom  and 
indtpendencc.  Tlie  spirit  of  Woodville  could  not  easily 
adapt  itself  to  his  fortunes.  He  still  felt  as  a  gentleman, 
even  when  forced  to  descend  to  revolting  occupations  for. 
immediate  subsistence.  He  still  loved  mankind  when 
he  was  pining  in  neglect ;  and  even  cherished  dreams 
of  benevolence,  when  lie  was  himself  the  victim  of  self- 
ishness and  apathy.  It  is  true  he  now  siiunned  his  for- 
mei-  friends  and  associates,  but  it  was  to  sj)are  them  tha 
pain  of  witnessing  his  struggles  with  misery. 

AVith  Altamont,  however,  he  continued  to  corres- 
pond, though  always  with  the  same  reservatiniKon  his 
own  affairs.  But  however  he  miglit  suppress  such  facts, 
he  was  sometimes  unable  to  disguise  his  feelings :  and 
he  occasionally  wrote  from  the  impression  of  the  mo- 
ment, but  M  ilhont  any  reference  to  his  own  destiny.  **  It 
is  a  great  evil,"  said  he,  in  one  of  his  letters,  "  to  have 
been  born  a  gentleman.  It  is  without  wealth  an  attaiii" 
der  of  all  our  useHd  and  happy  faculties."  "  It  is  dan- 
gerous," said  he  in  another,  '•  to  cliei'ish  the  dreams  of 
fancy,  for  they  make  the  heart  sensible  at  every  poi-e." 
In  another  letter,  he  said,  «  An  unfortunate  man  bears 


^ALSINORE,  S£» 

flie  curse  of  Cain :  every  one  fears  as  an  enemy,  the 
wretcli  wlifj  is  known  to  want  a /r?>f!</.'* 

In  gvneral  liis  IcUcrs  were  of  a  more  chrci*ful  turn : 
he  continued  to  f^ivv  Altaniont  liic  best  advict,  |)la\ftilly 
observing,  *<  that  since  prudence  would  not  stay  in  liia 
ark,  he  hoped  she  wotdu  take  up  lier  abode  in  the  ujive 
bower  of  Ills  ntiiiii'itic  fiiend/'  It  at  length  happcMud, 
however,  that  .Utaiuont  was  accidentally  infornied  t'lat 
AVo'Klvillc  was  in  in<iigent  obscurity.  He  haU  just  re- 
ceived a  sjcond  reniittanco  fr.nn  bis  unknown  pation, 
and  inniiediatoly  disjjatebed  two  thirds  of  it  to  his  dis- 
tressed friend,  tl:(»u.q;b  by  this  frank  lib*  iiility,  be  ren- 
dered biniself  unable  to  accompany  Valiancy  on  his  tour 
through  Italy  :  and  higidy  was  t!.at  gay  c()mj)ah:<.n  of- 
fcnded  Avhen  hep  jsistid  in  not  leaving  Enghmtl  till  an- 
other year.  Lut  tb<^  ^i-;insi<Mit  ps'tulance  was  soon  sub- 
dued, and  they  p;iit''(i  with  unaft'icted  cordiality,  ncm'ly 
at  thv  same  tiiin-  tliat  the  Ue  Lilies,  accompanied  by 
Miss  Rouvigny  and  her  father,  returned  t(t  England, 
and  took  up  t!^<nr  residt-nce  in  Beachdale.  Allauu-rt, 
who  was  no  1  ^iger  noticed  by  Lord  ^larmiton,  spji»t  bis 
vaeatit >ns  in  Lon<l<  n,  wiicrc  be  had  hoped  once  more  to 
enjoy  tbc  sceii-ty  of  Vi  oodviile. 

In  this  expectation  be  was  disappointed ;  as  never 
once,  sincr  !  is  li!)tM\tl  remitt;tnee,  bad  he  receive*',  from 
him  any  e;)isttdary  corniu'.inieation.  He  could  not  doubt 
but  tbat  M  otflville  su'-miscd  fivun  what  quarter  tbe  br)un- 
ty  came,  and  was  resr.lved,  by  th^s  seemingly  ungrate- 
ful si!-  nee,  to  restrain  his  future  liberality.  To  cons;)le 
him  for  this  chagrin,  he  !iad  the  satisfaction  to  receive  a 
third  ann'ial  reiniltancc,  with  an  intimati(»n  that  this 
was  tiie  last  ti.nc  he  woiild  be  addressed  in  England, 
since  his  friend  wished  him  to  spc nd  two  years  on  the 
Coi!tin«  nt.  He  was  then  enjoined  to  return  to  his  native 
country,  where,  if  he  was  not  Avanting  to  himself,  ho 
migbt  one  day  possess  botb  fame  and  fortune. 

There  was  snw  thing  in  the  style  of  the  last  epistle 
which  irresistibly  bro:igbt  Mi^s  Gladwin  before  bis  eyts  j 
but,  reeol!.  eting  her  narenv  ciieun.sranccs,  Ise  instant- 
ly condemned  the  suggestion,  and  was  happy  to  dismiss 


36  VALSINORE. 


i 


Jin  i(]pa  so  little  connjoiiial  to  his  romantic  foelinji^.  The 
hill  11  p.vt'iici;  s:(J  Was  till' 300).  by  whlcii  it  appCiU'ed  that 
the  donor  iiad  nicoly  ctilfiilatt'd  the  p  riod  of  iiis  al;sencc. 
He  prei)ai'ed  thei\  tbre  lor  his  joiirjiey  witli  joyful  ala- 
crity. 

Indepcnd  nt  of  his  ardent  longings  to  see  so  cli.ssieal  J 
a  counti'y  as  K;dy,  he  imd  tlie  delightiul  aiiticiputi.ms 
of  visiting  Mr.  ami  Mrs.  Bruce,  in  tiieir  ronjantic  re- 
treat, and  of  being  re-united  to  Ins  fi-iend  Valhtncy. 
Amidst  tliese  a.ur 'eable  oxpectatitnss.  how  was  his^joy 
enhanced,  by  Iji'dvI'v^,  just  as  he  was  on  the  eve  of  em- 
barkation, thai  !;:3  uiend  U oodviile,  who  had  been  for 
soniC  moiiihs  en'i,aged  as  dosnestic  tutor  in  a  family  in 
Ireland,  was  niuried  to  a  young  lady  who  had  been 
one  of  its  innuues,  and  who  possessed  a  handsome 
forj-Uiie. 

Of  tlils  report,  as  usual,  half  was  truth,  and  the  other 
fal;eiiood.     It  was  no  nkistake  that  Wot)dville  had  held 
tFh'  sitiiation  of  tutor;  it  was  equally  correct  thathehad„ 
married ;  but  the  lady  so  ch'jsea  was  merely  a  poor  de-^ 
pendant,  who.  'y  partaking  his  chagrins,  had  insensi- 
bly stoleti  his  affections. 

Too  generous  to  involve  another  being  in  his  adversi- 
ty, Woodviile  would  have  struggled  with  his  own  pas- 
sion, had  not  the  too  siisec  ptible  girl  so  weakly  betrayed 
her  feelings  lo  ohss-rvation,  as  to  incir  for  ins  sake  the 
contoiiipt  and  censure  of  her  ungentle  patroness.  Not 
only  love,  but  hn\ior,  now  ini polled  hijn  to  rescue  ids 
auiable  vietini  fiom  unkindness  and  reproach ;  butj 
wlipn  he  frankly  offered  his  hand,  he  conc:'ak'd  not  how 
sniall  ihe  sum  of  worldly  goods  !ie  had  to  best  >w ;  but 
poor  as  h?  was.  he  j  >yf  il!v  pledged  himself  to  her  pro- 
tection :  and  ;;nfortunate  as  he  was,  she  rejoiced  to  be- 
come tl>€  partner  of  liis  pov.  rty. 

Iinraed'.atcl}  after  this  in  uispicious  union,  he  returned 
with  Iiis  brule  to   Lon!l>«,  intending,  for  her  sake,  to 
ov  rco.ne  his  repjgHancc  to  stdi;  it  favors,  and  biddly  to  \ 
ci     1    ige  assistane.f  from  his  former  ci  nn^xi  )ns.     Hadji 
h    .  .ppi  nc^ '  to  »i>oet  witii  Altamont,  he  W'»Mld  prohabl* 
have  renewed  his  application  to  Lord  Marmiton,  bi»| 


V.4XSIN0RE.  45 

ly  to  De  Lillo,  she  bc.j^ffcd  to  have  a  few  moments  coti- 
vci'salioii  with  him  ;  he  readily  assented  to  hei-  ivqiust, 
too  happy  to  escape  feom  the  lynx-eyed  suspicion  that 
had  thrown  him  into  such  confusion. 

Mrs.  D<'  Lilh^  could  nuw  think  and  talk  only  of  Val- 
iancy, and  she  w as  ever  fiuent  in  Ids  piaise.  Sir  I' red- 
eric  assented,  but  Cordelia  was  sih  nt,  lor  she  was  mn- 
sinij;  on  her  former  preceptor.  In  about  half  an  hour 
Mrs.  Gladwin  returned,  with  a  face  full  of  myste- 
rious interest.  Mi's.  I)e  Lille  ikjw  very  naturally  turn- 
ed tlie  convetsatiun  on  AcU^Ja  Rouvie:;ny,  ohservinsj;  that, 
*♦  though  they  had  never  met  since  they  were  cliildren, 
there  was  in  every  point  a  remarkable  coincidence  be- 
tween them  ;  they  weie  both  lively  and  si)ortive  ;  they 
had  the  same  style  in  their  conversation  and  letters ;  an«l,'* 
cried  she,  ♦<  it  is  really  curious,  they  even  write  so  much 
alike  tliat  1  have  some  difticulty    in   distinguishing  one 

,  hand  from  the  other." 

Miss  (Jladwin  listened  with  profound  attention,  then, 
suddenly  raising  her  voice,  exclaiuifd,  '•  D«p(  nd  •  n  it 
they  are  too  similar  to  sympathize  ;  covir(u,i  is  the  soul 

I  of  harmonij  ;  take  my  wcrd  for  it  he  will  fall  in  love  with 
Mome  pensive  maid,  devout  and  pure,  sonn^  damsel  that 
looks  like  a  nun."  Iler^  her  e^is  ghineed  on  Cordelia, 
who.  rccollectiug  hei*  father's  conversation,  colored  deep- 
ly, ami  unfortunately  met  Mis.  I)e  Lille's  scrutijn'zin.^ 
eyes  ri\eted  on  her  countenance  ;  whilst  Ceiia.  wholly 
regardless  of  the  sensation  she  Iiad  excited,  with  a  sud- 
den elastic  Jiik.  bade  them  good  morning,  and  hurried 
aM  ay  to  assist  her  ohi  ■proie;^ce  in  dispensing  ahns  to  some 
poor  ])ensioner;  for  at  the  call  of  distress  she  always 
desconded  from  her  inia/'inai-y  01;.  mpus,  and  instead  of 
being  the  fo.d  of  fancy,  beeuiue  tlie  agent  of  charity. 
That  task  ]tci  lornied.  slie  resumed   her  (►riginal  pi'.'  l)en- 

(tsity  to  dreaming,  and.  in  In  r  n\\n  mind,  created  for 
those  she  had  relicA'ed  a» state  of  h  licity  to  comiiensate 
for  all  their  f.iruier  suiTeiings  and  piivations:  never 
Were  t\V(^  beijigs  n:()i<e  different  ihiin  Celja  in  these  two 
capacities;  Ik r  transformation  v, as  sirdden.  as  that  of 
the  silk-worm  spinning  his  web,  to  the  giddy  moth  byz/ 


46  VAISINOHE. 

zinj;;  in  the  siin-heams,  and  sipping  nectar,  from   all   the 
flowers  ofparrdise. 

Little  did  this  bcnevolont  being  imagine  that ahe  had 
lodgt'd  a  pnison«-(l  arrow  in  Mrs.  De  Lille's  bosom. 
Jealosjs  ot  hir-  hiisband's  ^icwsffij'  Cordelia, slie  instant- 
ly C('n<eived  that  there  was  some  collusion  between  him 
and  Celia.  to  the  exclusion  of  Adela  -Rouvigny.  Cor-^ 
dflia  hc'.silf  was  involved  in  her  suspicions,  and  sopoFg- 
lumt  was  her  disph^'suro,  that,  f.)rgetting  her  usnal<lis- 
cn'tion,  slie  i'X<-,Jaiin«  d,  ♦•  What  jjakry  artifice  !  as  if 
any  body  co;ih?  siipp'^se  contrast  produced  syni'/athy. 
Pray,  Miss  Dc  l.illc,  is  it  with  such  dis'i'.iisitions  she 
entertains  vouin  these  longcoufidtntial  interviews?'* 

«  Dcprj)!!  on  it,"  said  Sir  Frederic,  anxious  to  avert 
her  indignatltn  fr.mi  Cordelia,  there  is  no  treason  plot- 
ting betnt  en  Ibfui." 

<'  Biit  you  l\>rgct  she  was  talkipg  of  my  son  Valian- 
cy." 

'**  And  of  Herbert  Altamont,"  added  Cordolja,  now 
anxious  to  reiuove  t!ie  iinpression.  which  she  ^ercfcived 
to  have  sunli  into  Mrs.  De  i.illc's  niind. 

"  Oh,  lu;  was  }  our  tuhu*  I  think." 

*<  Yes  my  iirst  pcecpptor,  and  to  him  I  owe  the  little 
Icnowledge  I  possess,  of  that  language  my  father  has 
interdicted." 

"  And  was  this  1  nsg  ago  ?"  asked  Sir  Frederic. 

••  Oil,  sevoral  years,  but  I  have  not  quite  forgotten  Ms 
instriicti(ms."    . 

*•  Yom-  first  j)ivcf"ptor  has  been  most  fortunate,  in 
nsaking  his  w  irds  indelible." 

**  Y»  as  my  son  also  your  tutor  2" 

"  Oh,  never." 

<*  He  set  you  no  task,  troubled  you  with  no  correc- 
tions?" 

*♦  He  n^ver  troubled  himself  abont  me  ;  and  to  con- 
fess the  trnth,  I  "nvii.i  him  a  little,  beca  ise,"  added 
s\h\  coloring  as  she  spake,  "  he  was  alwavs  with  Her- 
be.-t."  .  ^  ' 

Mrs  De  Lille  was  chained  with  this  H»geniousness> 
li|l  suspicion  whispered  that  this  might   all  be  artifice. 


VAIS7V0RE.  39 

was  solaced  with  the  fiicndship  of  Adda  Rouvi.cny,  who 
ii'ivv  lavished  on  her  confulr'nce  and  aRcciinn.  Tiiis  cor- 
dii'l  iMjion  was  '  fiUJilly  (iisjiloasing  to  tiiC  specious  Uc 
Liile  and  his  n:iyi'>M'\:rini|;  parUici..  Thr  latter  liad  that 
piissivo  st'Wisl)Tjfes  whic!:.trtkrs  slscllcr  in  ohliquity,  with- 
onl  vont  u'in^^on  any  positive  violation  of  rectitude  ;  she 
would  havps!i.i(!  !v  (  rjury,    yet  scinj-Kd   not  to 

e!nph)y  du])l!ci(>  a  ii<n:  she  woithl  not  have  in- 

vented a  culiMtMiY.  but  was  id  way  8  ready  to  pn!]nic:ate. 
scandal ;  ;'s  mIii<  was  sireniu/Qs  in  piirsidngher  ovn  real 
or  iin;;.e;iiii  .    she    was   apt  to    attgh^te  iho 

same  sinisu  r*i  ■«  .1  II  oih-i-s,  and  cor.sequently  passed 
her  liicin  C^^raplt'ss  and  ofi.v;n  causeles,-*  pei'^urhation  and 
anxiety.  In  inarryinti;  De  Lillet  she  !iad  oftcrcd  violence 
to  l»er  own  character,  whic'i  wasincap:d)Ic  t^  delicacy 
or  {^i'tiei'osity*;  nor  \n  as*  hei*  passion  suflicirnfly  ardent  to 
blind  lie!' to  the  di^fi^dte  of  him  for  \vh:)in  she  had  made 
the  sacrifice  ;  she  was  too  quick  stv,htrd  not  to  discover 
ihat  her  ht'shand  was  anximis  to  captivate  all  wo-.ian- 
kiiid  ,  the  tvirch  of  h  vc  soon  grew'  dim,  obscured  by  the 
sullen  elonm  of  jenlousy.  ,i^       ^».  > 

De  liil'-,  in  wbain  vanity  wasibe  .  passion,  was 

at  once-ieazod  and  flattered  by  her  sdicitud^',  lie  ])iqued 
Idms'If.  wirh  ■  )me  reason,  on  his  pawns  qi'  fuscinRtioii 
with  the  fetnale  sex ;  and  so  l^^aldy  did  he  prize  Tfiis 
supp')sed  supremacy,  that* he  even  lavislied  eoinpliments 
on  Coi'1  lia  and  Adela,  with  the  hope  of  enchanting 
them  by  his -gallantry.  1^  please  his  wife,  lie  would 
oftiMi  extol  the  beauty  of  her  niece.;  and  whenever  he 
had  ap')int  to  carry,  he  aflfected  to  ti^eat  his  daughter 
wi'Jj  coldness  and  neglect,  in  spite  of  finesse  and  arti- 
iicp,  Mrs.  De  Lillcj  with  her  usual  aptitude  in  iina.fi^ining 
"'J,  imputed  to  him  the  design,  of  urHting"  Cordelia  to 
Valiancy,  to  the  exclusion  of  her  darl'--^  scheme  of  Adela 
Rouvigny.  W  henever  this  suspicion  ^,. assessed  her  niind^ 
she  was  gloomy  and  ihtractahle,  and  Cordelia  was  the 
first  to  feel  that  she  had  offended,  witliout,  divining  the 
nature  of  her  transgression. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  thentatHmonial  scheme «o  rnuch 
depreciated  by  Ids  wife,  woiild  have   entered  into  De 

D  2 


'^I 


40  VALSINORE. 

Lille's  calculations,  had  it  not  been  so  often  mentioned 
in  their  altercations,  that  he  began  to  consider  whetlicr 
it  was  not  feasible,  and  was  actually  excited  by  her  ac- 
cusations to  make  the  very  effort  slie  so  much  wished  to 
prevent.  Happily  for  his  hojjcs,  the  Bavon  Roiivigny, 
after  re!nai)iingsouje  months  in  England  was  obliged  to 
retnrn  to  the  continent,  and  his  daughter  was  so  much 
alarmed  by  his  declining  liealth,  that  she  insisted  on  be- 
ing his  companion. 

^Irs.  Dc  Lille  was  inexpressibly  grieved  by  her  depart- 
ure ;  but  consoled  herself  with  the  reflection,  that  per- 
haps her  son  might  meet  with  her  on  his  travels  ;  or  at 
all  events,  if  she  married  a  foreigner,  the  estate,  which 
formed  hei-  greatest  attraction,  would  revert  to  hrr  own 
family.  Fi'om  this  jXM-iod,  however,  she  grew  more  and 
more  dissatisfied  with  her  husband  and  herself.  Val- 
iancy became  the  object  of  her  mostbigottcd  attachment. 
She  talked  of  him  continually,  and  her  eulogies  were  al- 
ways accompanied  by  a  disdainful  glance  at  the  innocent 
Cordelia. 

A  few  day's  after  Adela's  departure,  Cordelia  was 
cheered  by  the  sight  of  Miss  Gladwin,  wlio,  though  no 
longer  admitted  to  the  vicarage,  continued  her  annual 
visit  to  Beachdale,  where  siie  had  f  )und  an  asylum  of 
peace  and  content  for  an  old  lady  she  was  accustomed 
to  call  lier  protegee^  and  was  through  her  means,  ad- 
mitted as  a  boarder  to  tlie  family  of  a  wealthy  farmer, 
residing  iu  the  village.  Miss  Gladwi)i  was  cordially  in- 
vited to  Valiancy  house,  where  she  at  first  amused  Mrs. 
I)e  Lille  with  her  eccentiicilies,  as  much  as  by  lier  spon- 
taneous admiration  she  flattered  her  husband  ,•  Mltilst 
Cordelia  was  moie  happy  than  she  could  express, Ho 
converse  with  one  who  corresponded  with  Mrs.  Braces 
and  sometimes  received  a  few  lines  from  Altamont. 

The  genial  influence  of  joy  called  up  to  her  counte- 
nance so  many  nameless  cliarms  of  animation,  that  De 
Lille,  meeting  her  just  after  she  had  parted  from  Celia 
in  the  park,  could  not  help  exclaiming, 

"  Cordelia,  how  astor.ishingly  you  are  improved 
since  your  return  to  Knglauil !  You  are  now  ten  times 
more  beautiful  than  your  mother  ever  was." 


VALSINfORE.  41 

Cordelia  felt  her  heart  beat  at  tliis  unexpected  com- 
plinient,  foi'  she  tliought  how  nuich  she  shoiild  like  to  be 
HOW  seen  by  Herbert. 

Her  i'iither,  ta])jjins!^  her  cheek,  said,  "  Play  your 
cards  well,  and  you  sliall  be  a  viscountess," 

<•  A  viscountess,  Sir  ?" 

"  It  w  ill  be  strange,  iiidecd,  if  yon  are  not  preferred 
to  Adela." 

Coi'drlia  now  coniprehendinii;  his  meav.inj^,  said  very 
seriously,  "  Heaven  forbid  I  should  ever  interfere  with 
the  happiness  of  one  I  love." 

"  Tooh,  d(n»t  you  know  she  is  rich,  ami  may  have 
the  peeraj^e  at  her  feet;  but  yon.  Cordelia,  have  no 
fortune,  and  mine  dejjends  on  contingency." 

At  this  s|>cech  she  cast  down  her  eyes,  abashed  and 
aileirt. 

*'  Ifcw  now,  gill,  %i'e  you  angry  with  your  father, 
for  wishing  to  see  yon  a  peeress  ?" 

"  Ah^  bir,  angry  is  not  the  word  I  can  ever  use  with 
yon." 

'*  But  yon  are  displeased,  Cordelia." 

"  1  was  grieved,  Sii-,"  she  hcyitated  for  a  moment ; 
t!ien  raising  her  eyes,  added  with  gentle  firmness,  »*  I 
would  no<?  for  the  world  be  accessary  to  the  disappoint- 
ment of  one  who  loves  you." 
*   <•  Why,  sjjc  li)ves  not  you,  Cordelia." 

"  liCt  lae  at  least  be  grateful  to  her  for  yonr  sake." 

"  Well,  well,  do  not  be  so  pathetic,  1  only  meant  a 
little  pleasantry." 
•    "  No,"  cried  she  eagerly,  <'  I  a*n  sure  yon  did  not." 

••  But  supposing  I  had  been  serious,  what  then,  Cor- 
delia ?" 

Too  sincere  to  dissemble,  she  returned  no  answer^ 
De  Lille,  flinging  from  her  contemptuoesly,  ad«led  with 
a  sarcastic  smile,  "  J  suppose  you  meant  to  renounce 
your  father.  I'hanks  to  Mr.  Bruce  and  his  pious  \>  ife, 
for  having  filled  your  head  with  such  puritanical  vaga- 
ries.    Pity  but  ycyi  were  a  catholic,  to  be  canonized." 

Here,  to  the  i  lAnife  relief  of  Cord-lia..  tfie  coiiversa- 
tion  was  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  Sir  Frederic 
DS 


-is  VALSINOKE. 

Mowbray,  who  was  one  of  the  few  visitors  always  wel- 
comed to  Vailiiiicy  house.  This  gentleman,  who  was 
now  Utile  more  tiian  tliirty,  had  married  in  early  life  a 
woman  of  fashion,  from  whom  lie  was  soon  oblia;rd  to 
separate.  Respect  for  her  connexions,  or  rr^ard  for 
his  own  interests,  prevented  liis  seeking  a  div<;rcc.  To 
divert  !iis  chagrin,  ho  had  phiiigcd  into  jmlitieal  intrigues, 
and  for  same  time  acquitted  himself  with  respectability 
in  a  post  of  some  eminence.        1 

By  a  change  of  administratis,  he  was  obliged  to  re- 
treat from  public  life  ;  and  in  this  interval  of  leisure  re- 
turned to  St.  Quintin's  abbey,  which  was  in  tlie  neig}»- 
borhood  of  Beaclulale.     It  was  here  he  renewed  his  ac- 
quaintance with  Baron  Rouvigny,  to  \\hom  he  was  le- 
lated  ;  and  who,  anticipating  his  own  dissolution,   in-VT, 
dueed  her  daughter  to  name  fiim  as  her  gi^-dian.  >Sir 
Frederic  acc(  pted  tlic  trust,  ,^anA  was  iii  consmYfence 
almost  considered  as  g?  part  of  tljje  family.     AViil^t. be- 
ing brilliant,  he  had  much  of  the  spirit  of  so^id^',  and 
was  universally  acceptable  to  his  ac([uaintanceV    He  had  •  ,* 
the  happy  art  of  putting  people  in  good  humor  with  them- 
selves.    He  was  every  where  dismissed  with  praise,  and 
by  cveiy  one  greeted  with  complacency.     Since  he  h^cl    "^ 
been  elected  the  guardian  of  Miss  Rouvigny,  yehfuf  af- 
fected to  consider  her  as  his  pupil.     Every  nforning  he     •  , 
had  some  book  to  read,  some  drawings  to  ci-itjciae,  iftjf^  ". 
some  music  to  correct ;  and  Cordelia  shared  in  his  in-'' 
structions,  and  at  least  divided,  if  she  did  not  engross 
his  attentions.  ■/ 

The  sight  of  Sir  Frederic  Mowbray  was  at  atiy  timo^ 
suflTicient  to  restore  De  Lille  to  good  humor ;  h^  there- 
fore instantly  resumed  his  smih's,  whilst  Cordelia,  iinX- 
willing  to  b<  tray  her  agitation,  hastily  withdrew  to  h^B^^ 
cliamber  to  meditate  and  weep.     She  was  convinced  tliat 
her  father  really  meant  what  he  had  saitj  of  Valiancy  ;  " 
she  f?lt  ashamed  and  afflicted  foi^is  g^ke ;  she  strug- 
gled in  vain  to  think  him  worthy  6f  esteem  and- confi- 
dence.    A  secret  terror  oppressed  her  innocent  heart ; 
she  trembled,  lest  she  shocdd  have  admitted  some  im- 
proper suspicion^  or  baibored  sonde  uuiiliai  sentiment. 


i. 
VALSINOBiE.  43 

Sl>c  (lofcrmiiied  to  cnnipensixto,  as  far  a<!  possible,  by 
*Siil)inif<si  111,  for  the  involnntai'y  failure  of  aflectioii ;  ami 
she  loiigt  (l  to  shew  attention  wiiero  she  couKl  not  compel 
revernice. 

For  sonic  flavs,   tlie;*(  fore,  after  this  interview  she 
e:i;^ei|y  \vaii»  <!  for  her  fatlKi's  con  niands.  an'!  antieipa- 
ted  hi8  wishes  ;  she  ])reseiite(l  his  favoi-ite  flowers,  and 
■.  piayed  wliatever  air  or  lissnii  she  ha»l  heard  him  ap- 
prove ;  but  De  Lillc  was  too  much  otftnded  to  aft'ord 
her  the  satisfaction  she,  coveted  ;  his  vanity  was  wojuid- 
^od;  she  had  iniliot"d  apani?«»n  his  e.s;otisn>  by  miinif^st- 
^h)'S  hei*  r<  ;?;;ird  lor  Mr.   and   Mis.  Bruce,    to  whom  he 
'Tjp'iidged  even  that  esteem  he  thoeii^ht  not  wortli  tlie  trou- 
..Hble  to  piirchasc.     Scornf.dly,  therefore,  did  lie  rej»  ct  all 
/jiersih'nt  pleadini^s,  hei' amiable  advances  to  rec;>nc;lia- 
Jn  m  ;  wlien  she  piactiscd  his  favoiite  lt\ssons,  he  turned 
Stf*ay  in    uni!;rac:ons  silence,  or  addressed   Iicr  with  a 
siafcastic  loolc  as  Saivt  Cordelia.     Mrs.  De  l.iMe  per- 
ceTving  his  sullen  estrangement,  witho'it  gn*  s.siup;  the 
cause,  became,  she  knew  not  why*  disposed  to  treat  hor 
wilh  more  kindni'ss  and  complacency. 

Sir  I'rederic,  entering  one  day  and  perceiving  her 
unusual  d  jsction,  took  occasion  to  urge  her  to  devote 
more  time  to  music. 

.     "  Sir,''  said  l)e  Lille,  "  she  scorns  the  gamut ;  no- 

;■-  thing  s;itisfi(  s  her  but  daetylcs  and  spo.idees.     MOuld 

y(Jj  hi  lieve  it  ?  sh»e  seeks  siditvide,  not  to  impi-ove  in  any 

cl'gant  accomplishment,  but  to  pore  over  a  dead  lan- 

&    •'^'^■  • 

*'  Indeed,  Sir,"  replied  Cordelia,  afTocting  to  smile, 
1^*'   I  cL)  not  think  you  can  prove  that  allegati-.n." 

*♦  Qid  I  not  detect  you  yesterday  in  explaining  a  nuis- 
ty  epitaph  ?" 

Here  he  looked  at  his  wife,  from  whom  he  expected 
jf>the  m' st  cordial  su])po't,  well  Knowing  with  what  an- 
tipathy she  alwa\s  spoke  of  al-'arned  lady.  To  hissiir- 
pris<'  she  was  sihnt,  and  Sir  Fredciie  s;  i;!  h>^  sho;.ld  bo 
pt-  >iid  if  be  mi^lit  there  also  be  permitted  to  assist  her 
studic!:;. 


ii  tAlSINORE. 

«  Why  surely  you  would  not  recommend  her  to  waste 
her  bloosn  in  siicli  iin|)i'(>rital)K'  purs  i its  !" 

*«  Considi-r,  my  d.^iir  Di'  Lilh',  you  h;ive  so  mucli  of 
her  countenance,  that  she  may  be  pardoned  for  stealing 
some  of  your  mind." 

De  Lille  was  so  w^U  pleased  with  this  compliment 
that  he  remitted  his  displeasure,  and  said  lie  should  he 
satisfied  whenever  she  w;.s  with  Sir  Frederic  Mowbray. 

Scarcely  was  this  cause  dismissed,  wlien  a  servant 
entered  with  a  L'tter  to  Dc  Liilc,  whieli  appeared  to 
cause  liim  no  small  disturbance:  it  was  neither  very 
elrganlly  fchled  nor  vttry  legibly  directed ;  **  Who 
brought  this?"  *»  A  ]){)or  boy,  Sir."  *<  And  what  is 
become  of  Lim  ?"  ♦'  He  went  away  diixctly,  Sir."  De 
Lill",  V,  ho  by  tliis  time  liad  broken  open  the  seal,  chan-» 
gei]  Ci;l;)r,  but  cai'f  lessly  saving,  '•  I  see  'tis  an  appli-' 
cation  for  charity,"  put  it  into  Iiis  })ocket,  in  cvidei'it 
perplexity.  *' 

*' If  it  was  an  application  for  charity,"  observed  his 
wif.s  "  it  is  somewhat  stran.^e  tlie  bo}  shoidd  go  with- 
out waiting  for  an  answci."  *•  If — "  retorted  De 
I.ille,  with  unguard.'d  vehemence,  *»  it  is  imptKssiblc  I 
sltould  be  misfaki^n  in  its  contents  ;"  and  risi)ig,  he  went 
to  tl)e  wind  w  in  <'vid  nt  disj  K  asure.  Mrs.  Dc  Lille 
threw  on  him  a  ^lanee  fill  (»f  suspicion  mingled  with 
anxi  ly.  Cor(i( li  i  v. as  alain  ed  by  his  unusual  ejn- 
barj'assment.  Sir  Fr.  deric  hd<l  thought  of  twenty  (jufe- 
tions  to  cimnge  ihe  sohjeet.  nith(»ut  pronouncing  one, 
wlieu  thf  ('o  ;!  'p  ned.  and  Mis.  Gladx^ in  appeared,  her 
eyes  radiant  \\it!i  joy,  and  ev(r>  muscle  moving  with 
deligat.  She  had  just  recciv  d  a  l'tter  fiMm  Mis.  ik-uce, 
to  wiiich  was  s  i-jj  dnc*;l  a  p»stcript  from  Altainont. 
<'  They  are  all  w;  11,"  cried  she,  "  and  oh  !  Mrs.  De 
Lill '.  I'-Av  mv  Herbert,  for  he  has  .saved  your  son's 
lit"-?"' — «  Mv  s>n,  giod  heavens  !  and  when  was  my 
s  >n'v  lif  indnngi?"  •*  Oh  !  going  on  the  water  in  a 
boai  the  other  day.  he  fell  into  it,  and  had  not  Altani  .nt, 
wh^  swims  like  Jhlius  Cresar.  juntped  into  the  water  af- 
ter hiiii,  he  nr:st  have  b^  en  drowned;  oh  !  trust  me, 
JUtaiuout  vsiil  be  a  great  mau."    TUeu  turoing  abrupt* 


VALSINORE.  61 

ed,  iind  many  a  creaking  pew  hclokcncd  impatience,  and 
many  a  shrill  cough  iniimaipd  (iispl.asiirf,  whilst  Mr. 
Qiiiiitin,  witlj  l(»oks  at  once  dolorous  and  indiij,nant,  en- 
deavored to  make  tlic  Reverend  iMr.  Bland  smsihle  ot* 
his  want  of  duty  anU  decorum.  The  cause  of  the  delay 
was  soon  explained,  A\hen  tour  persons  entoird  the  Dc 
Li llr  gallery,  in  inie  of  whom  Valiancy  discovered  Lord 
Marmiton,  in  the  second  his  motlierj  but  of  the  third 
and  fourth,  a  venerable  old  man  and  a  beautiful  young 
wo»)an,  neither  he  nor  Altamont  had  any  inmicdiato 
recollection.  ♦»  Surely,"  said  the  foi-mer,  **  it  must  be 
Cordelia;"  *'  Si. rely,"  said  the  latter,  "  it  cannot  bo 
Cordelia."  "  This  looks  like  an  angel,"  said  Vallan- 
v\,  "  but  the  I ncognit a  was  a  woman." 

Altamont  attended  not  to  this  observation,  so  much 
was  he  delighted  witli  the  object  before  him;  not  that 
,  lier  face  poss-.'sspd  a  faultless  symmetry ;  the  fine  open 
forehead  was  st)me\vhat  too  high,  but  that  defect  was 
concealed  h\  her  chestnut  braided  hair  ;  her  profile  was 
exquisitely  fine,  yet  an  artist  might  have  wished  for  a 
rounder  corJonr.  JBut  criticism  was  disarmed  by  the 
eloquence  of  her  eyes  ;  all  petty  strictures  were  forgot- 
ten in  contemplating  a  countenance  so  happily  formed  tf> 
express  every  noble,  every  tender  sentiment,  that  it  dif- 
fused the  love  ot  viitue  with  the  light  of  beauty. 

Valiancy  was  lost  in  conjectures  respecting  the  causa 
of  Lord  Marmitcm's  ap])earancc.  As  he  wisljed  to  sur- 
prise his  mother,  he  waited  till  she  had  l^ft  the  clinrcl!, 
and  then  stealing  out  with  his  friend  at  a  private  door, 
by  a  well  known  field  path,  quickly  reached  the  house, 
and  both  had  taken  tbeii-  station  on  the  law^i,  \>  hen  Mrs. 
De  Lille  and  her  party  aliglited  from  tli'e  carriage.  Lord 
Marmiton  was  again  the  prominent  personage  ;  he  gave 
liis  arm  to  the  matron,  leaving  the  young  lady  to  the 
venerable  man,  a  Mr.  Halter,  who  Inid  in  reality  occa- 
sioned his  Loi'dsldp's  visit.  This  admirabie  being  had 
been  long  distinguished  in  Germany  fer  his  active  bene- 
volence, and  wiis  indebteil  to  Baron  Rouvigny  for  his 
introduction  to  Lord  Iriu  ,\>,iiton.  through  whose  mcdl-n^ 
he  hoped  to  rccomm€n*,^'"^\)e  of  his  pliilantluopic  pUii.s 


62  VALSIXORE. 

to  the  British  government.  His  lordsliip  received  the 
proposal  with  his  accustomed  suavity  and  apathy :  in  his 
heart  he  cared  for  nothing  hut  his  own  personal  intiM'cst 
and  the  aggrandizenjent  of  his  family.  He  was,  howe- 
ver, willing  to  shower  down  civilities  on  Ualler,  whom 
lie  almost  conjptlled  to  remain  at  his  seat  much  longer 
than  was  desirable  to  his  unworldly  guest ;  who  having 
at  li  ngth  expressed  his  anxiety  to  be  introduced  to  the 
aunt  and  friend  of  Miss  Rouvigny,  his  Lordship  protest- 
ed he  would  convey  him  to  Beachdale,  to  enjoy  to  tli» 
last  moment  the  privilege  of  his  society. 

They  had  now'  spent  a  week  in  the  village,  much  to 
the  satisfaction  of  Mrs.  De  Lille,  and  to  the  infinite  de- 
light of  Cordelia,  w  ho  already  considered  Haller  as  tlie 
first  of  human  beings.  At  sight  of  her  son,  Mrs.  De 
Lille  utters  an  exclamation  of  joy,  and  then  throws  a 
look  of  solicitude  on  Cordelia.  His  lordship,  compre- 
hending the  cause  of  her  agitation,  springs  forward, 
hut  being  somewhat  purblind,  opens  his  arms,  not  to 
Valiancy,  hut  to  Altamont.  Mrs.  De  Lille  reproachful- 
ly asks  if  he  has  forgotten  her  son.  Valiancy,  with  ad- 
mirable grace,  removes  the  aukwardness  this  blunder 
had  occasion.-d,  by  saying,  <*  Lord  Marmitou  was  right, 
for  your  son's  preserver  siiould  be  welcomed  before  your 
son."  Lord  Marmiton  immediately  paid  his  compliments 
to  Altamont,  whom  thougii  he  had  once  well  known,  he 
appeared  to  have  w  holly  forgotten  ;  and  Mrs.  De  Lille 
favored  hiin  w  ith  a  most  gracious  reception.  In  the  mean 
while  Cordelia  and  Hallcr  arc  left  to  themselves:  she 
waits  in  vain  for  the  recognition  of  Altamont,  who  still 
gazes  on  her  with  mingled  admiration  and  incredulity. 
It  is  impossible  to  identify  his  little  i)upil,  with  the  tall, 
graceful,  dignified  creature  before  him.  **  She  must 
surely  be  older,  or  has  Cordelia  leapt  into  perfection  ? 
Imagination  cannot  improve  her !"  Cordelia  at  length 
perceives  his  embarrassment,  and  scarcely  knowing 
whether  to  be  flattered  or  mortified,  advances  a  few  pa- 
ces, and  offering  her  hand  w  itli  an  air  of  modest  fran' 
ness,  says  in  a  voice  whose  ever.v  tone  inspires  delig' 
«*  And  must  i  w  ait  to  be  i^t'^  educed  to  my  old,  ar 


VALSINORE.  63 

curtseying  \vitli  an  involuntary  expression  of  archness, 
"  my  veiirrablc  preceptor?" 

Altauu>nt  took  lier  hand  with  seeming  cohluess ;  a 
sentiment  of  res])ect  repi'essed  the  impulse  of  aft'cction. 
**  You  are,  indeed,  presented  to  me  in  a  new  form." 

"  And  had  you  then  (ptite  forgotten  Cordelia  ?" 

*'  I  know  not  Iiow  to  reconcile  the  two  Cordelias  to 
each  other." 

*•  Oh!  don't  imagine  you  see  a  changeling;  I  could 
hriiig  a  thousand  proofs  to  conviPice  you  I  am  tiie  same 
creatui-e  who  was  so  tenderly  protected  hy  Mr.  £rucc> 
and  so  often  lessoned  and  corrected  hy  ijou.'^        -- 

Altamont  was  ready  to  protest  agaiiist  the  word  cor- 
rected ;  the  j)upil  now  appeared  so  perfect,  so  supreme 
in  loveliness,  that  it  was  painful  to  imagine  she  had  ever 
been  otherwise. 

And  now,  continued  she,  "  as  I  can  never  be  your 
preceptor,  let  m<'  introduce  you  to  Mr.  Haller,  wlio  is 
worthy  to  iiave  the  best  and  noblest  of  human  beings  for 
liis  pupils." 

If  Altamont  was  grateful  for  tliis  attention,  Cordelia 
Avas  gnficful  from  the  recolhction  of  his  former  kind- 
ness; and  each  had  unconsciously  inspired  the  otiicr 
with  the  same  sentiment. 

,.  And  now  Haller,  who  had  already  learnt  to  translate 
'the  language  of  C(»rdelia's  countenance,  approached  and 
rec(  ivcd  the  stranger  with  an  air  of  cordial  friendship. 

♦*  Ml.  Altai)i(mt,"  said  he,  with  a  genuine  smile, 
«  ever  since  [  have  known  this  lady,  1  have  been  under 
OMiigiitions  to  you  :  for  you,  she  tells  me,  were  her  first 
ptvcc|)ioi-."  At  this  unexpected  compliment,  which 
fi'om  such  venerable  lips,  seenn  d  to  descend  like  a  ben- 
ediction, Cord( lia  cast  down  her  eyes,  whieli  glistened 
'with  ddight;  she  could  not  but  be  proud  to  receive  such 
praise  from  Haller;  and  she  was  prouder  still,  that  the 
fair  rep«>rt  was  niacle  to  Altainont : — yet  she  breathed  a 
secret  sigh,  hst  she  should  not  be  found  worthy  of  the 
precious  distinction  ;  but  then  she  mentally  promised  to 
become  so.  Her  heait  was  oj)preRsed  with  gratitude  and. 
humility,  and  yet  she  almost  hold  her  breath,  as  if  to 
F  2 


*>*  VAISINORE. 

prolong  the  delicious  sensation.  Haller  drew  his  young 
friends  to  a  retired  walk,  leading  to  the  park  ;  whilst 
Mrs.  De  Lilk^,  who  had  been  gratified  by  the  division 
of  her  party,  conducted  Lord  Marmiton  and  V^allancy  to 
a  summer-liousc  opening  on  the  garden,  which  was  call- 
ed the  pavilion. 

The  philanthropist  was  delighted  with  his  young 
companions  ;  active  and  cliccj'ful,  he  seemed  not  sensi- 
ble to  the  pressiire  of  age  ;  he  confessed,  indeed,  a  slight 
degree  of  lameness,  hut  it  was  scarcely  perceptible  to 
the  nicest  eye ;  and  as  lie  leaned  on  his  staff,  his  cai-ri- 
•Agc  was  no  less  dignified,  than  his  aspect  was  open  and 
mMugriTHits—  FtTr  the  last  two  years,  he  had  also  found 
his  hearing  partially  impeded  ;  but  the  sense  of  this  in- 
firmity, occasioned  only  the  habit  of  inclining  his  head 
towards  the  person  he  addressed,  which  made  his  coun- 
tenance appear  still  more  gracious :  and  sometimes  he 
extracted  from  this  defect  an  excuse  for  shunning  with- 
out sullenness  the  conversation  of  those  with  wliom  he 
felt  he  could  have  no  communion.  Then  his  eyelid  gen- 
tly falling,  his  head  somewhat  reclining  to  one  side,  he 
appeared  to  abstract  himself  from  the  present  sofsne,  and 
to  take  shelter  in  liis  own  peaceful  meditations,  in 
Lord  Marmiton's  society,  he  had  often  occasion  to  sink 
into  this  attitude  of  abstraction  ;  with  Mrs.  De  Lille  he 
was  not  sorry  to  be  somewliat  dull  of  apprehension  :  but 
to  Cordelia,  he  had  opened  immediately  with  compla- 
cency and  cordiality,  and  almost  at  the  first  glance  ap- 
peared to  have  given  her  his  paternal  benediction.  To 
Altamont  he  shewed  equal  fiankness  ;  and  putting  him- 
self between  them,  he  engaged  in  conversation  with  his 
new  acquaintance  on  the  countries  they  had  visited,  and 
was  evidently  pleased  with  the  spirit  of  his  observations. 

Bailor  was  one  of  the  few  old  men  who  relish  the  en- 
thusiasm of  youth  ;  and  when  Altamont  confessed,  that 
he  could  not  help  regretting  those  classical  ages  of  Greece 
and  Rome,  when  the  halo  of  glory  encircled  tlic  head  of 
genius;  lie  dropt  not  his  eyelids,  (that  idiomatic  ex- 
pression of  dissatisfaction)  he  merely  inclined  his  head, 
an  unconscious  smile  stealing  to  his  lips,  and  after  a 


VAISINOBE.  65 

momentary  pause,  replied,  «  if  you  recollect  that  you 
are  a  Briton,  you  will  not  surely  wish  to  have  been  a 
Roman."  Tliough  Ha'h  i-  never  mentioned  f-^ni^hmd  as 
his  native  country,  it  was  impossible  to  conceive  that  he 
belonged  to  any  other. 

This  amiable  conlerence  was  interrupted  by  Vallanc}, 
who,  escaping  from  his  companions,  requested  Alta- 
mont  to  join  him  ;  and  taking  his  arm,  setined  to  have 
something  important  to  connnunicate,  llaller  looking 
after  Altamont,  exclaimed,  witii  a  sort  of  sigli,  <•  That 
is  a  nohlc  creature  !  but  I  fear  he  is  reserved  for  bitter 
disappointment.  Such  a  spirit  as  his  accords  little  with 
the  world."  Cordelia,  who  luvd  almost  feared  he  would 
misconceive  his  character,  thanked  him  witli  hert\vos 
for  doing  justice  to  her  first  preceptor.  Ilaller  had  a 
second  time  blessed  her  witlj  the  music  of  praise;  and 
her  heart  was  again  attuned  to  joy;  but  she  had  now, 
no  doubt,  no  ditVulcnce,  no  humility  :  he  spoke  of  Ik  r 
master  and  her  friend,  and  in  him  her  faith  was  jirm  ami 
immutable. 

Valiancy  had  called  to  Altamont,  to  observe  a  pic- 
ture which  had  met  his  eyes  the  moment  he  ente;cd  the 
pavilion  :  it  was  a  female  figure  in  the  character  of  Flo- 
ra. On  enqniiing  for  whom  it  was  intejulcd,  his  mother 
had  carelessly  re})lied,  it  was  a  fancy  sul>jcct  copied  by 
Cordelia."  But,"  added  he,  "  it  is  the  most  striking 
likeness  possible,  of  tlic  Incognita.  I  plainly  perceive 
my  mother  is  manauvring;  find  out  if  possible  whose 
picture  it  is,  for  I  never  can  believe  sucli  a  marked  le- 
scmblance  is  accidental."  Valls^ney  was  peit'ccth  cor- 
rect in  his  conjectures  ;  but  the  charge  to  Altamont  came 
too  late.  Mrs.  De  Lille  having  in  that  interval  separa- 
ted Cordelia  from  Hallor,  to  give  her  a  strict  injunction 
to  secrecy,  at  the  same  time  observing,  that  hrr  son  was 
obviously  charmed  with  the  portrait,  Coidelia  simply 
expressed  her  satisfaction  ;  but  Mrs.  De  1^111-  ])rej)os- 
scssed  with  the  idea  that  this  imiocent  girl  luul  formed 
th?  ambitious  design  of  cajjtivatiiig  Valiancy,  and  deter- 
mined to  thwart  her  supposeil  wishes,  fancied  she  de- 


66  VAXSINORE. 

tected  some  chagrin  in  her  countenance,  and  exulted  in 
the  anticipation  of  her  (Jisappointment. 

Being  now  assembled  in  the  drawing  room,  Haller 
Mas  for  tlic  first  time  introduced  to  Valiancy,  who  was 
still  in  liis  most  amiable  mood,  and  so  gaily  sportive  that 
he  could  scarcely  restrain  the  exuberance  of  his  spirits. 
Lord  Mann iton  and  Mrs.  De  Lille  enjoyed  his  sprightly 
sallies ;  and  His  Lordsliip,  always  complimentai,  said, 
«  I  do  not  know.  Valiancy,  that  you  could  fill  up  a 
pause  in  a  diriJier  at  a  Lord  Mayor's  table ;  but  I  am 
sure  you  will  idways  be  ready  to  amuse  the  house,  when 
the  right  member  is  not  at  hand  to  support  a  motion." 

"  But,  my  Lord,  I  am  not  going,  like  Mr.  Quintin, 
to  be  a  trigger  to  the  treasury  bench ;  and  I  shall,  I  be- 
lieve, be  tlje  firat  of  our  family  (females  excepted)  who 
Las  ever  entered  the  ranks  of  oppositioii." 

Well,  Sii",  you  are  a  young  man,  and  therefore  it  is 
but  natural  you  should  be  in  a  minority  :  but,  take  my 
word  for  it,  Valiancy,  whe*n  you  come  to  be  married, 
you  will  give  your  vote,"  looking  significantly,  *'  on  the 
right  side." 

••  Does  your  lordship  mean  to  say,  that  a  married 
man  is  merely  Ms  wife's  proxy,  or  that  he  cannot  be  a 
fion  content  ?" 

"  Have  a  cai-e,  Signor  Benedick,"  cried  Mrs.  De 
Lille,  <•  or  you  will  surely  meet  with  your  Beatrice." 

"  No,  Madam,  my  vows  are  pre-engaged  to  a  St» 
Cecilia,  in  Italy.'*  Then,  turning  abrubtly  to  Cordelia,^ 
lie  added  with  affected  gravity,  **  Pray,  are  you  very 
cruel  to  your  votaries  ?  for  I  saw  more  knees  prostrated 
to  you,  than  to  our  lady  of  Loretto,  It  is  true,  upon 
my  honor,  you  are  so  very  like  a  saint,  who  is  wor- 
shipped from  morning  to  night  at  Naples,  that  when  I 
saw  you  at  church,  I  fancied  you  had  started  from  the 
canvass.'* 

"  Mrs.  De  Lille  colored,  whilst  Lord  Marmiton  said» 
with  much  gallantry,  "  How  can  }  ou  compare  her  to 
any  thing  so  ijtanimate  ?  Shew  me  the  artist  who  can 
do  justice  to  nature  ?" 

'  Oh,  my  Lord,  this  picture  was  a  happy  sketch  of 


VALSINORE.  Qf 

(he  fancy,  a  prefigu ration  of  boaiity  licreaftcr  to  exist, 
01'  peiliaps  a  rellection  of  beauty  that  had  previously  ex- 
isted. It  is  very  delightful  to  behold  so  niauy  impressi- 
ons of  one  beautiful  faee  :  for  instanee,  now  that  fi,y;ure 
of  Flora,  which  you  say  is  a  fancy  pieco,  is  so  like  a 
faee  I  have  somewhere  seen,  tliat  1  should  call  it  an 
original." 

Mrs  De  Lille  eagerly  enquired,  Avhere  he  had  met 
with  the  person  of  whnm  he  was  i-eniinded. 

»<  Where?  Wliy  1  think.  Madam,  it  was  about  two 
years  ago,  at  Bologna." 

Mrs.  De  Lille  looked  so  dissatisfied,  tliat  tlie  bene- 
Tolent  Ualler,  wlio  had  hitherto  sat  wrapped  in  abstrac- 
tion, was  just  going  to  address  her,  when  the  dignified 
Mr.  Quintin  stalked  into  the  room,  and  having  heard  of 
Valiancy's  arrival,  formally  congratulated  his  nmther 
:  on  his  happy  return.  The  vivacious  Valiancy,  eagerly 
anticipating  the  end  of  the  sj)eeeh,  started  up,  exclaim- 
ing, "*  My  dear  Sir,  \v<uihl  a  on  have  recollected  me  ?" 
Quintin,  taking  out  his  snuK'box,  and  very  deliberately 
putting  into  his  nostrils  the  pungent  poN\  dor,  to  ap])ly  a 
stimulus  to  his  memory,  replied  at  length,  «  Most  as- 
suredly. Sir." 

<*  What  a  morTifying  sentence  have  you  pronounced 
against  me.  1  had  flattered  myself  I  was  so  much  im  pro- 
ved, (pardon  me,  motlier,  corrected,)  that  I  should  no 
longer  be  recognized  as  the  same  person  j  but  I  see  how 
it  is,  Mr.  Quintin,  you  have  not  forgotten  the  court, 
wheie  if  a  man  is  once  pricked  down  on  the  black  list, 
the  gates  of  preferment  ai'C  forever  shut  against  him." 

Lend  Marmiton,  now  finding  it  impossible  to  be  silent, 
observed,  "  it  is  a  man's  own  fault  to  get  upon  that  list. 
He  lias  undoubtedly  made  a  capital  UHScalculation  in  ta- 
king the  wrong  side  of  fortune.  Such  a  man.  Valiancy, 
must  be  a  green  horn,  an  enthusiast,  a  knave,  or  a  fool," 

"  Do  you  observe,  Altanmnt,  His  Lordship's  para- 
phrastic translation  of  your  favorite  name  of  Patriot? 
Mr.  Quintin,  my  friend  and  I  have  long  carried  on  a 
controversy,  which  is  still  undecided,  on  ancient  and 
modern  times.    We  are  very  dilTercnt,  you  perceive 


./ 


^ 


"^ 


6S  tAXSINORB. 

from  other  young  men  of  our  age.  "We  have  really 
spent  our  days  like  two  students  fagging  to  become  sen- 
ior wranglers.  We  have  studied  diagrams,  instead  of 
frequenting  polite  circles.  We  have  been  star-gazers, 
instead  of  dancers.  We  have  scarcely  opened  oui-  lips 
to  a  woman  ;  and  as  to  beauty,  it  is  only  since  our  arri- 
val," glancing  at  Cordelia,  "  that  we  have  been  blest 
with  the  sight  of  it." 

"  Well,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Quintin,  w  ith  inflexible  grav- 
ity, "  and  may  I  presume  to  enquire  the  subject  of  your 
debates  ?" 

«  Sir,  my  friend,  though  he  insists  that  there  was 
more  public  virtue  in  the  classical  days  of  Greece  and 
Kome  than  we  can  pretend  to,  yet  insists  also,  that  for 
the  last  fifty  years,  we  have  taken  a  turn  for  impi'ove- 
ment,  and  are  likely  by  degrees  to  lose  all  traces  of  the 
barbarism  and  ignorance  of  our  poor  grandfatheis." 

"  Barbarism  aud  ignorance !"  reiterated  Mr.  Quin- 
tin, knitting  his  brows  with  much  asjjerity,  «  and  pray 
Sir,"  addressing  Altamont,  "  in  wliat  modern  foppe- 
ries does  this  boasted  improvement  consist  ?"  Altamont, 
perceiving  his  friend's  malicious  drift,  gravely  answer- 
ed, **  You  will,  at  least,  allow  a  man  cannot  now  be 
ptit  into  the  inquisition  like  Galileo,  for  discovering  that 
the  earth  moves  round  the  sun." 

**  Sir,  that  is  out  of  the  question  j  we  will  confine  the 
comparison  to  our  own  country.  Can  you  sincerely 
affirm,  that  we  are  wiser  and  better  than  our  fathers  1*' 

"  We  ougbt  at  least  to  be  happier  ;  an  old  woman  is 
not  now  liable  to  be  burnt  as  a  witch ;  and  a  learned 
man  does  not  create  artificial  misery  by  musing  on 
dreams,  or  casting  nativities." 

«  But  tljcn,"  retorted  Valiancy,  "  I  maintain,  that 
as  soon  as  one  stock  of  folly  drops  off,  we  are  blessed 
with  another.  Credulity,  like  the  Lama  of  Thibet,  is 
immortal.  There's  quackery,  supplies  the  place  of  sor- 
cery. Instead  of  v/earing  a  harmless  amulet  round  the 
neck,  we  swallow  down  all  the  minerals  and  metals,  and 
absorb  into  our  own  systems  the  elements  ofeai-thquakes 
^id  volcanoes.    To  be  sure,  there  is  no  Sorboune  to  de^ 


VAL3IN0RE.  69 

sfroy  us  alive,  but  the  Collc.^e  of  Physicians  supplies  its 
place.  We  have  escaped  IVoin  the  cont'issor,  to  be  en- 
thi'alled  by  the  lawyer.  And  when  we  die,  our  heirs, 
instead  of  purcbasin.e;  peace  for  our  souls,  have  enough  to 
do  to  liberate  our  possessions  from  Chancery." 

"  But  the  great  evil  of  ail,"  said  Quintin,  is,  that  a 
geutleman  is  not  now  to  he  distijjg'uished  from  a  man  of 
yesterday.  It  is  inconceivablv*  in  wiial  ignorance  all  your 
youn.ej  ])eo])le  are  of  Ihcii'  ancestors." 

'<  Ah  !  Mr.  Qniniin,  the  greatest  evil  of  all  is,  that  wo 
have  lost  so  mucli  liberty." 

«  No,  Sir." 

"  I  fancy  that  I  can  prove  it.  Sir,  to  demonstration." 

"  Sir,  begging  your  paidon,  the  demonstration  is 
impossible.  Tlic  King  has  lost  much  of  his  preroga- 
tive." 

♦«  Then  the  Queen  has  gained  so  much  more  influ- 
ence." The  one  sex  has  constantly  gained  ground  upon 
the  other.  Formerly  beauty  miglit  be  mari'ed  even  in 
youth  ;  but  now,  a  handsome  woman,  thanks  to  innocu- 
lation,"  bowing  to  bis  mother  and  Cordilia,  "  instead 
of  being  elected  like  the  mistress  of  the  robes  for  a  sin- 
gle administration,  as  Sarali  Diiteliess  of  Mai'Iborough, 
kce])s  her  power  like  one  of  the  twelve  judges  for 
life." 

Mr.  Quintin  now  first  perceiving  the  irony,  rubbed  his 
eyes,  and  rapped  his  box,  and  was  utterly  discomfited. 
Lord  Mai  niiton,  enjoying  Ids  conf.  si  )n,  wliisuored, 
"  Ah  my  poor  pedigree."  HaHer  w. is  again  going  to 
speak. — his  mild  eyes  announce*!  soi-u  thing  like  rebuke 
to  Valiancy.  But  at  this  nv  mei>t  an  unexpected  addi- 
tion was  made  to  the  conipany,  which  rendered  his  in- 
terference uunecesary. 


? 


5^0  YALSIXOBE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

WHEN  De  Lille  parted  from  Sir  Frederic  Mowbray, 
he  mentioned  his  Nvifc's  intended  visit  to  Kent  ;  which 
happened,  how  ever,  to  be  nothing  more  than  one  of  her 
usual  manoeuvres,  with  which  from  habit  she  was  always 
amusing  or  perplexing  her  husband.  De  Lille  had  re- 
ally motives  for  visiting  the  metropolis,  and  he  was  still 
detained  there  by  serious  business,  when  he  heard  of 
Lord  Marmiton's  visit  to  Beachdale.  At  this  news,  all 
otiier  considerations  were  suspended  ;  and  leaving  his 
affairs  unfinished,  he  travelled  with  such  expedition, 
that  he  reached  home  before  the  hour  of  dinner,  and 
made  his  appearance  just  in  time  to  give  Quintin  an  op- 
portunity of  retreating  from  the  argument.  De  lyille 
had  hastened  to  the  drawing-room  with  such  precijjita- 
tion,  that  he  was  not  apprized  of  Valiancy's  arrival ; 
but  scarcely  had  he  paid  his  compliments  to  Lord  Mar- 
miton  and  Mr.  Halkn-,  when  Mrs.  De  Lille  called  his 
attention  to  her  son  and  Altamont.  At  tlie  sight  of  the 
former,  he  experienced  only  a  momentary  embarrass- 
ment :  but  in  nceiving  !»is  friend  he  bi^rayed  an  unusu- 
al c  ddn^'ss  ;  it  was  some  time  before  he  enquired  for  Mr. 
or  Mrs.  Briic". 

*<  How  can  'v^  be  so  ungrateftd  ?"  sighed  Cordelia. 
«  Why  is  he  s  >  g'>ner'uis  ?"  thoJiglit  Altamont,  who 
attribited  t!iis  air  of  c  >nstr<unt,  to  the  consciousness  of 
his  secret  donation  ,•  and  yet,  could  not  help  revolting  at 
the  conviction. 

The  sumnvnis  to  dinner  proved  a  seasonable  relief; 
wIk'u  Valiancy,  all  gui'.-ty  and  gallantry,  gratified  De 
Lille  by  taking  the  chair  fi-^xt  Cordelia,  on  whom  he  be- 
stowed his  undividiMl  att' ntion.  Hitherto  Mrs.  De  bille 
had  regarded  her  husband  with  unwonted  complacency  ; 
but  now,  though  too  discreet  to  raise  licr  voice  in  anger, 
she  shewed  her  dip.satisfiiction  in  various  trifling  circum- 
stances, perceptible  only  to  the  nicest  observation  j  sli« 


YALSINORli.  "ta 

complaiiK  who  made  mc  promise  to  serve  in  parliamoiit." 
;  she  siiciiHe,  now  tliinkiiig  it  incumbent  on  him  to  unite 
I     Tb  common  cause,  said,  with  the  host ^a;race  i in as^in- 
■>  le'V,  "  1  trust  Mr.  Altamont  is  loo  j^ood  a  patriot  to 
;  fljsist  sucli  a  plea."     Altamont  did  not  resist ;  he  was 
nit  too  happy  to  obey  ;  and  his  actpiicscence  diffused 
general  satisfaction.     V'allancy  whispered  to  him  to  as- 
certain whether  Miss  Rouvigny  was  not  the  original 
Flora,  and  repeated  his  injunction  of  secrecy  respecting 
the  Incognita.     Lord  Marmiton  then  proposed  that  Dc 
Lille  should  accompany  them,  observing  facetiously,  ho 
was  a  most  successful  canvasser  with  the  ladies.     Th« 
evening  passed  in  perfect  liarmony.     Mrs.  De  Lille  was 
lightened  of  half  her  cares ;  her  husbaiul  not  divested 
of  his  hopes ;  Valiancy  animated  by  anticipations  of 
success :  Quintin  was  gladdened  by  a  bustle,  which  re- 
minded him  of  a  levee ;    Haller  was  pleased  with  the 
general  expression  of  content ;  and  Cordelia,  satisfied 
with  her  father,  charmed  with  her  step-moth.er,  delight- 
ed with  her  preceptor,  how  beautiful  was  her  counte- 
nance !  what  lovely  visions  played  around  her  fancy ! 
what  a  tender  delici«)us  joy  filled  her  heart !     With  those 
sweet,  pensive  features,  those  downcast  eyes,  how  umjcU 
,  more  than  gay,  how  happy  was  Cordelia  ! 


CHAPTER    IX. 

DE  LILLE,  though  unwilling  to  lose  the  tclat  of 
Siccomi>anying  Lord  Marmiton,  from  whom  since  his 
marriage  he  had  never  before  received  any  mark  of  at- 
tention, was  little  satisfied  with  the  arrangement,  which 
left  Cordelia  so  accessible  to  her  first  preceptor.  Pi-c- 
vious  to  his  departure,  he  took  an  opjwrtunity  of  re- 
peating to  his  daughter  all  the  encomiums  Valiancy  and 
lus  Lordship  had  pronounced  on  her  beauty,  again  as- 
suring her  that  Mrs.  De  Lille  was  incensed  at  her  supe- 

G 


.M 


f*  VALSINORE. 

Hority  to  Miss  Rouvigny.  He  tlien  expressed  his  coii- 
coin  that  tlie  hfuisc  was  to  be  cncunibciCil  diirinji;  his  ab- 
sence with  such  a  young  man  as  Altairiont,  not  that  he 
distrusted  her  pmdencef  on  the  contrary  he  was  sure  she 
^vould  know  how  to  presei've  l«ei'  own  dignity  and  re- 
pulse his  attentions,  it'  he  siioiild  dare  to  obtrude  them. 
Me  concluded  by  saying,  that  l»e  Ijopcd  she  would  defeat 
his  wife's  malice,  whose  aim  it  had  ever  been  to  keep  her 
in  humble  obscurity.  He  then  left  her  abruptly,  un- 
willing perhaps  to  involve  himself  in  any  thing  like  an 
altercation,  which  might  very  naturally  arise  in  her 
zeal  for  the  vindication  of  her  first  preceptor. 

Cordelia,  it  will  easily  be  imagined,  was  no  longer 
satisfi  d  with  her  father,  and  when  she  returned  to  the 
company  slie  was  almost  equally  dissatisfied  with  Alta- 
mont.  He  had  no  longer  that  look  of  animation  and  en- 
thusiasm ;  she  missed  the  ardt-nt  expression  of  admira- 
tion she  had  before  obsci  ved  in  his  countenance  ;  he  now 
wore  a  grave,  and  almost  a  melancholy,  aspect.  Cor- 
delia fancied  lie  regretted  his  friend's  departure,  and 
Wondered  how  it  Iiad  come  to  pass  that  every  body  had 
appeai'ed  so  happy  yesterday. 

Wlieu  the  canvassers  were  gone  he  retired  to  his  own 
apartment,  to  write  letters  to  Switzerland,  or  perhaps 
to  indulge  ids  own  meditations.  Till  he  was  once  more 
in  Bcachdale  it  had  never  seriously  occurred  to  him,  how 
little  he  had  employed  his  talents  since  he  left  it ;  and 
till  he  saw  Cordelia  he  had  never  deeply  regretted  those 
illusions  of  fancy  in  which,  he  had  wasted  his  youth.  To 
what  purpose  had  he  hitherto  lived  ?  His  talents  were 
not  known  beyond  the  college,  or  tlie  circle  of  his  friends ; 
lie  had  travelled  ;  he  had  acquired  a  fund  of  knowledge, 
^nd  still  he  had  liv?d  for  no  lionorable,  no  noble  objpct. 
Those  anonymous  letters,  those  mysterious  remittances, 
were  now  remembered  witli  regret,  almost  with  disgust. 
All  tilt  se  reflections  were  sufliciently  obvious,  but  he  was 
indebted  for  them  to  Cordelia  :  by  a  single  impression 
made  on  the  heart,  the  dreams  of  fancy  dissolved  in  air, 
and  returned  to  theip  primitive  nothing.  Nor  was  this 
his  only  source  of  painful  reflection  ;  he  knew  not  whe- 


VALSTNORE,  75 

titer  to  consider  Do  Lille  as  ungrateful  or  generous. 
W'lieu  lie  compared  all  tlic  ciiciMustanees  attending  those 
secret  donations,  lie  agreed  with  Mrs.  Bruce,  that  they 
could  have  been  transmitted  (Voin  no  other  quarter ;  but, 
Avhcn  he  saw  and  heard  the-  suj^posed  donor,  he  almost 
suhscrihed  to  his  tViend  \  allaiu.v's  o])inion,  that  it  was 
as  likely  to  have  come  from  the  Genii. 

This  state  occasioned  sucli  painftd  alterations  of  feel- 
ing, that  he  determincii  not,  even  if  Cordelia  should  in- 
duce him,  to  remain  at  Beaclidfde,  if  he  c  )idd  not  dis- 
cover whether  De  Lille  was  oi*  was  not  his  pri\  ate  bene- 
factor. Notwithstanding  all  these  severe  resolutions, 
his  pensivcncss  vanished,  he  knew  not  how,  when  he 
had  been  half  an  liourin  her  society.  But  the  cloud 
that  had  rested  on  his  countenance  passed  to  her's,  when 
Hallor  observed,  that  having  failed  in  the  object  of  his 
mission  to  England,  he  should  return  to  Gri'manj'  in 
three  or  four  weeks.  Mrs.  l)e  Lille  was  profuse  in  ex- 
pressions of  regret ;  and  having  exhausted  all  she  had 
to  say  on  the  subject,  somewhat  abruptly  asked,  if  he 
was  not  an  Englishman.  <»  In  my  father's  right,  Ma- 
dam, if  not  in  my  own  ;  I  was,  I  believe,  horn  in  this 
kingdom,  but  have  spi'nt  almost  all  my  life  out  of  it !" 
After  this  question  he  sunk  into  his  meditative  mood, 
from  wiiich  he  \\  as  only  rouzed  w  hen  Cordelia  proposed 
a  walk,  lie  readily  assented.  Altaniont  was  invited  to 
join  them  ;  and  as  Mrs.  Dc  Lille  had  happily  no  relish 
for  such  rural  plrasiires.  they  proceeded,  without  her, 
to  a  heath-eovtred  hill,  which  had  been  Altamont's  fa- 
vorite haunt  in  childhood;  and  was  so  celebrated  for  its 
salubrity,  that  a])plications  were  often  made  for  the  ad- 
mission of  patients  to  the  farm-house,  (the  only  habita- 
tion it  afforded,)  for  their  recovery. 

The  path  wound  through  green  lanes  and  delicious 
fields,  ])resenting  a  constant  variety  of  landscape.  At 
first,  Haller  walked  with  his  two  young  friends,  equal- 
ly delighting  them  with  his  funds  of  knowledge  and 
thought,  his  rcrmcd  sensibilities  aud  unaffected  benevo- 
lence. He  never  entered  on  p(ditical  or  metaphysical 
discussions  ^  he  had  a  few  simple  principles  to  which 

G2 


>»»>.»« wfi. '    "^"vjn 


76  VAtSlNORE. 

all  liis  wisJom  appended  ;  he  loved  to  think  tliat  society 
like  man  was  in  a  pi'Oi^pessive  state,  and  that  virtue  and 
tnitli  were  advancinsj  their  course.  To  talkloni;,  how- 
ever, even  on  these  most  congenial  tlicmes,  seemed  to 
fatigue  his  attention  ;  he  required  the  fs'ecdom  of  silence 
and  solitude  for  peace  and  meditation.  When  they 
reached  tlie  summit  of  the  hill,  therefoi*e,  he  quitted  iiis 
com])anions,  and,  stationed  on  a  verdant  knoll,  con- 
templated the  distant  sea,  so  dimly  seen,  tl»at  its  sub- 
lime storms  were  only  present  t(»  the  eye  of  fancy,  wliilst 
the  wide  expanse  of  country  suggested  images  of  peace, 
plenty  and  security.  Altamont  and  Coidelia  gazed  on 
his  mild  religious  aspect.  "  The  first  moment  1  saw 
him,"  cried  Altamont,  "  I  could  have  wished  to  call 
him  father."  «  I'hat  was  exactly  my  feeling,"  rejdie<l 
she ;  then  blushing  with  the  consciousness  that  she  might 
seem  tn  reflect  on  her  own  parent,  she  added,  "  for  he 
apjjcars  to  be  the  common  guardian  of  the  human  race.'* 

"  Tiiosc  very  words,"  cried  Altamont,  "  were  on 
my  own  lips ;  but  why  does  he  lead  this  melancholy  ex- 
istence ?" 

*«  Melancholy  !  he  is  surely  the  most  cheerful  old  man 
I  have  ever  known ;  and  though  he  has  neither  wife  nor 
chihlren,  he  seems  not  a  solitary  being ;  he  creates  for 
his  heart  so  many  interests,  and  he  has  so  much  tender- 
ness, I  chould  readily  make  him  a  confessor." 

Altamont's  eyes  avowed  that  hctho'tshe  had  no  faults 
to  acknowledge,  hut  he  checked  the  expression  of  Ids  feel- 
ings, and,  looking  at  her  steadily,  said,  "  I  believe  I 
oould  convict  you  of  an  amiable  treachery  ?" 

"  My  conscience  answers,  not  guilty." 

<*  Is  it  not  to  you  I  owe"— he  stopt,  unwilling  to  pro- 
ceed. 

"  You  owe  mc  r.othing.  I  am,  and  ever  shall  be, 
your  mother's  debtor." 

*'  Cordelia,  yes,  I  must  once  more  call  you  Cordelia, 
tell  me  truly,  have  you  never  heard  of  Valsinore's  mu- 
nificence to  my  mother?" 

"  Till  this  moment  I  never  heard  his  name." 

"  No ! — ^then  it  could  not  be — and  yet  it  must  be." 


VAI*SISORE.  77 

Here  he  appeared  lost  in  perplexity.     Cordelia  ven- 
tured to  enquire  what  he  meant  by  his  questions. 

Altauiont,  wlio,  since  he  had  nothing  else  to  oflt-r, 
found  it  soothing  to  give  his  confidence  to  Cordelia,  rea- 
dily commenced  his  mother's  story  ;  and  pei-ceiving  that 
Haller  had  quitted  his  station,  and  was  quietly  n  sting 
in  tlie  porch  of  (he  farm-house,  caressing  tlie  chihhen 
oftlic  famUy,  who  had  gathered  round  him,  ho  led  Cor- 
delia to  a  plantation  of  fir  trees,  where,  in  his  boyish 
days,  he  had  I'aised  a  swing  for  her  amuseiiK'nt.  Cor- 
delia well  remembcivd  the  trees  between  vliiclj  the  sim- 
ple macliinc  used  to  be  suspended  ;  its  ])lacc  was  now 
sui)plied  by  a  riistic  bencli,  where  Altamont,  inviting 
her  to  rest,  soon  fin.ished  his  little  narrative;  at  which 
she  was  so  much  touched,  timt  had  lie  before  distiiisted, 
he  must  now  have  been  convinced  of  her  sincei'ity.  He 
then  mentioned  all  he  had  lately  heard  of  Valsinore ; 
and  as  she  had  partici])ated  in  his  romantic  Ju)pcs,  sho 
shared  deeply  in  his  regrets.  <»  But  still,"  said  Cor- 
delia, "  I  cannot  understand  why  you  should  suspect 
me  of  treachcr}  ?"  Altamont  w  as  at  first  embai-rasscd 
by  tlie  question,  but  repulsing  t!ie  disingenuous  inii)ulsc 
w  hich  would  Iiavc  induced  concealment,  he  coidcssed  the 
mysterious  enclosures ;  adding,  "  under  these  circum- 
stances, you  will  not  wonder  if  I  am  grown  suspicious 
of  obligation.*' 

Cordelia  lequired  no  farther  exjdanation,  for  she  ea- 
sily comprehended  that  he  alluded  to  her  father.  "  Let 
ns  yet  hope,"  she  answered,  *•  that  Valsinore  exists  ;  of 
this  I  am  certain,  there  is  no  one  \\ithin  my  acquaint- 
ance, who  has  the  power  to  confer  such  benefits.  Be 
assured  you  have  never  yet  seen  your  noble  bcnefuctoi*." 

Here,  perceiving  that  Haller  was  approaching,  they 
rejoined  tlieir  venerable  associate,  who  was  agaiji  dis- 
posed to  relish  S(Kiety,  and  conversed  with  exquisite  feel- 
ing on  the  poetical  sentiment  associated  with  picturesque 
scenery,  and  the  inexhaustible  varieties  of  natuie.  »•  Im- 
agination." said  he,  «*  peoples  every  delightful  scene 
with  the  vii'tucs;  most  amiable^  most  bencficeut  ta  mati" 

G3 


78  VALSINOEB. 

kind.  I  am  now  shut  out  from  a  tlioiisand  avenues  of 
hope  and  pleasure,  I  have  lost  many  faculties  of  enjoy- 
ment j  but  this  remains,  for  it  is  mental  and  immortal/* 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE  confidence  reposed  by  Altamont  in  his  formcj- 
pupil  had  restored  them  to  the  frankness  of  familiar 
friendship.  Cordelia  secretly  pronounced  her  father's 
surmises  unjust ;  and  exulting  in  the  conviction  of  his 
honorable  principles,  she  magnanimously  resolved  to 
prove  tliat  theii*  mutiial  sympathy  was  not  incompatible 
with  the  most  disinterested  attachment. 

She  had  heard  such  modes  of  attachment  stigmatized 
as  dangerous  and  delusive ;  but  though  gentle  and  timid, 
she  had  too  much  imagination  to  subscribe,  on  all  occa- 
sions, to  the  dictates  of  prudence.  She  was,  besides, 
an  enthusiast  in  the  cause  of  virtue,  and  had  a  generous 
disdain  of  all  sordid  cautions,  all  vulgar  susj)icion.  She 
had  lived  too  much  in  her  own  world,  to  relish  the  tru- 
isms which  mclanclio\y  experience  has  forced  ujion  man- 
kind. In  short,  she  had  all  that  sensibility  which  so  of- 
ten proves  dangerous  to  its  possessor;  bat  her  senti- 
ments were  always  noble :  her  heai't  disclaimed  commu- 
nion with  all  but  noble  beings.  Having  decided  that 
Altamont  was  to  be  her  friend,  she  daily  annexed  to 
that  title  some  new  privilege,  some  still  more  sacred 
duty. 

Recollecting  that  her  father  had  stigmatized  him  as 
a  dangler  on  Valiancy,  she  ventured  in  her  turn  tp  be- 
come the  monitor,  and  urged  him  to  embrace  some  pro- 
fession which  should  give  scope  to  his  talents  and  ambi- 
tion. She  confessed  how  much  her  own  childish  pride 
ha«l  been  mortified  by  his  rebukes  of  her  inattention, 
and  by  what  exertions  she  ha4  sought  to  regain  his  ap* 
probation* 


YALSI?fOTlB,  79 

AltamoTit  almost  feit  compiincticn  at  tho  assurance 
that  he  liad  ever  caused  her  to  wee}).  Cordelia  was  cer- 
tainly rcven,2;ed  for  his  former  aKjH-riiy  :  site  ,G,lorie(!  in 
tJie  possession  (ifsucU  a  friend,  and  residved  he  should 
be  forcM-r  the  object  of  her  sisterly  afi'ection. 

I'hc  friend  was  not  indociK;  to  her  atlnionitions  ;  he 
(/i</ think  of  tl'.e  ijrofession  she  nrp;ed  him  to  embi-ace, 
and  he  sometimes  thonght,  too,  lliat  Corddia  herself 
might  at  some  futr.rc  ])eriod  recompencc  his  exertions 
and  bless  his  choice.  'J'hns,  if  the  first  fantastic  dream 
of  youth  was  gcnie,  anothei*  almi^st  equally  romantic, 
but  infinitely  more  deligiitful,  si;pplied  its  ph.ce.  In 
the  meanwhile  he  was  hajipy  in  anticipations  of  happi- 
ness ;  whilst  Cordelia,  on  the  contrary,  wanted  nothing 
to  compleat  her  felicity,  but  the  assurance  that  it  should 
be  pei-mancnt. 

She  often  wished  her  friend  would  confide  in  Ilallcr, 
'but  knew  not  how  to  suggest  this  wish.  One  morning, 
liaving  expressed  her  eagerness  to  see  the  manuscript 
as  a  relic  of  his  benefactor,  Altamont  j)iesented  it  for 
her  inspection,  and  she  was  gazing  on  it  w  ith  reverence, 
when  ilaller,  observing  that  none  of  tlie  characters  were 
visible,  offered  to  restore  them  by  a  simple  process  with 
which  he  was  perfectly  acquainted.  Altamont  eagerly 
accepted  the  proposal,  but  now  a  delicate  scruple  took 
possession  of  Cordelia's  mind.  The  manuscript  was 
perhaps  the  dejxKsitory  of  Valsinore's  most  seci-et 
thouglits,  and  was  it  right  to  f(trcc  them  from  their  re- 
ligious sanctuary  ?  At  the  name  of  Valsinore,  IJallcr 
listened  with  augmented  interest;  he  had  himself  heard 
of  such  a  man,  and  his  character  was  calculated  to  ex- 
cite curiosity. 

Altamont  explained  by  what  means  these  papers  had 
]Come  into  his  p»)seession ;  ami  Ilaller,  after  praising 
Cordelia's  singleness  of  soul,  ])romised  if  he  discovered 
any  charge  of  seeiecy,  not  to  penetrate  beyond  the  first 
page.  »»  But  may  I  ask  what  excites  in  you  so  mueb 
curiosity  for  this  Valsinore  ?"    ' 

.  ,;«  Only,'*  replied  she  eagerly,  "that  he  was  one  of 
ihe  noblvst  and  most  benevolent  of  human  beings.'* 


80  VALSIXORE. 

Altamont  was  silent :  Hallcr  enquired  no  farther,  but 
took  the  manuscript  into  his  possession  and  withdrew 
into  his  apartment.  Cordelia  wondered  Altamont  had 
not  chosen  to  repose  in  him  more  confidence.  He  guess- 
ed lier  thoughts,  and  irplicd  to  them,  "  No,  I  could 
not  relate  to  him  the  transaction  ;  1  would  not  seem  to 
challenge  interest,  or  claim  assistance,  even  from  such 
a  man  as  Haller.'* 

Cordelia  now  thought  him  right,  and  again  listened 
to  him  with  the  deference  due  to  her  first  prece])tor.  But 
this  conviction  of  his  superiority,  by  sanctioning  her 
choice,  served  only  to  fortify  and  confirm  her  affection. 
In  the  evening,  she  was  still  prouder  of  her  friend,  when 
in  their  rural  walk,  he  avowed  his  intention  of  accom- 
panying Haller  to  London,  to  procure  his  admission  to 
Lincoln's  Inn,  adding  with  a  smile,  he  had  but  too  long 
indulged  his  idleness. 

Cordelia,  though  delighted  the  first  moment,  was  not 
quite  so  happy  the  second ;  and  the  period  for  departure 
being  so  near,  only  three  short  days  to  intervene,  she 
may  be  pardoned  for  this  involuntary  regret. 

To  increase  her  chagrin,  Mrs.  De  Lille,  who  was 
now  in  daily  expectation  of  Miss  Rouvigny's  arri\  al, 
no  longer  urged  Altamont  to  return  to  Beachdale  ;  for, 
observing  how  agreeable  he  was  to  Cordelia,  to  whom 
she  had  given  him  unbounded  freedom  of  access,  it  oc- 
curred to  her,  that  he  might  happen  to  l)c  equally  ac- 
ceptable to  her  niece ;  and  as  she  w  as,  w  hen  others 
"were  concerned,  always  anxious  to  nip  folly  in  the  bud, 
she  did  not,  when  he  mentioned  his  intended  excursion, 
think  proper  to  remind  him  of  his  promise  to  consider 
her  house  as  his  home. 

Cordelia  was  so  chagrined  by  this  forbidding  silence, 
(purely,  as  she  fancied,  because  it  appeared  ungrateful) 
that  in  the  evening,  wlien  called  u})on  to  play  dui'ing 
twilight,  she  coidd  only  think  of  melancholy  tunes. 
<*  What  a  dismal  ditty !"  cried  Mrs.  De  Lille,  perceiv- 
ing that  Haller  was  more  than  usually  ahsfi  acted. 

«  No,"  said  he,  «  it  is  only  too  delightful.  In  lis- 
teuing  to  a  sweet  strain  of  music  I  am  caiTie^  back  as , 


V.VISIXORE.  81 

in  a  dream  to  fwlii^^s  -and  impressions  uhich  had  lap- 
sed into  oblivion  ;  what  is  forgotten  is  not  missed  :  re- 
gret is  the  gift  of  remembi'anee." 

For  the  last  two  days,  Ilaller  was  the  most  cheerful 
of  thcj)arty;  but  on  the  eveningpreceding  their  depart- 
ure, Mrs.  Dv  liilh^  suchlenly  recollected  that  Altamont 
\Nas  her  son's  lepresentative,  and  that  she  could  not 
permit  him  to  go  without  a  solemn  ])romisc  to  return. 

The  motive  of  her  hosi)itality  is  easily  accounted  for 
by  her  having  received  a  letter  from  Sir  Frederic,  an- 
nouncing Miss  Rouvigny's  farther  detention  ;  and  ano- 
ther from  Lord  Marmiton.  in  which,  after  congratula- 
ting her  on  her  son's  success,  he  mentioned  his  intention 
of  revisitiiig  Beaclulale. 

The  delay  was  explained  also  hy  Miss  Rouvigny  hav- 
ing caught  a  fever  during  her  journey,  which,  though 
not  dangerous,  rendered  it  improper  to  travel  till  she 
should  have  regained  her  sti'ength.  Sir  Frederic,  it 
will  easily  be  supposed,  was  provoked  at  this  unseason- 
ahle  detention  ;  and  witli  all  his  politeness,  his  letter 
discovered  less  concern  for  his  ward's  indisposition,  than 
his  own  personal  inconvenience. 

Relieved  from  the  fears  of  losing  Altan)ont,  Cordelia 
was  now  grieved  at  tlie  departure  of  Ilaller,  from  whom 
she  had  vainly  attempted  to  obtain  the  promise  of  cor- 
wspondence. 

"  No,"  said  he  "  an  old  man  should  have  no  intima- 
cy but  wilh  those  he  can  benefit.  I  came  to  England  on 
a  public  mission  ;  I  return  to  Germany  wilh  the  iiope  of 
obtaining,  for  a  private  individual,  an  act  of  equity  and 
justice.  If  I  prosper  in  this,  perhaps,  last  worldly  bu- 
siness I  shall  have  to  transact,  you  will  see  me  again ; 
otherwise" — lie  stopped  abruptly — tliere  was  a  mourn- 
ful pause — no  one  ventured  to  renew  the  subject. 

He  did  not  restore  the  manuscript  till  Ihe  morning  of 
his  departure,  when  it  was  given  into  Cordelia's  cus- 
tody, who  voluntarily  engaged  not  to  loak  into  it  with- 
out Altamont.  Hallcr,  smiling  with  benignity  at  her 
scrupulous  integrity,  observed,  it  would  be  much  better 
they  should  read  it  together  j  adding,  she  would  die- 


::jr^_-^rm 


82  VAISINORE. 

cover   it  was   ^VTittell  for  her  particular   instruction. 

"  But  does  it  i-et'cr  to  Valsinore  ?" 

<'  The  vvritiM-'s  name  is  not  divulged  ;  but  it  contains, 
in  part  at  least,  tlie  history  of  some  man  wlio  has  tasted 
an  excess  of  hajipincss  and  misery.  And  now,  is  not 
your  curiosity  excited  ?" 

«  Yes ;  but  1  shall  still  be  faitliful  to  my  trust— I 
shall  still  wait  till  \vc  can  read  it  together." 

Altamontj  it  niay  be  presumed,  was  iiot  ungrateful  for 
this  artless  association.  liallcr  looked  at  them  both 
with  affection;  but  though  his  eyes  were  bent  on  Alta- 
montwith  kindness,  their  more  tender  expression  was 
reserved  excl  usi vely  for  Cordelia. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

ALTAMONT  had  not  left  Beachdale  without  a  strug- 
gle with  inclination,  for  which  he  was,  however,  sopn 
rewarded,  by  the  consciousness  of  having  acted  in  a  man- 
ner that  rendered  him  more  worthy  of  Cordelia.  As 
long  as  he  indulged  in  his  own  meditations,  or  enjoyed 
the  society  of  llailer,  his  hopes  were  pure  and  ardent. 
He  cotdd  anticipate  a  period  of  lecompsnce ;  Ijc 
cojdd  imagine  a  scene  of  happiness,  which  invig- 
orated his  eiforts,  and  converted  caie  to  pleasure.  But 
when  he  entered  into  company,  he  was  sure  to  lose  ma- 
ny of  tlmse  bright  illusions:  the  general  tone  of  conver- 
sation never  failed  to  lower  his  feelings — ^to  enfeeble  his 
energy.  Every  one  liad  kept  a  register  of  those  who 
had  failed  in  the  arduous  undertaking.  The  old  spoke 
from  cxpeiience,  tlse  young  from  authoritT^ :  one  quoted 
precedent,  another  produced  example  ;  and  all  concur- 
red in  representing  a  young  man's  probation  for  fame 
as  the  most  hazardous  and  hopeless  of  all  exi)eriments. 

lie  complained  to  Haller  of  this  discouraging  lan- 
guage, and  its  injurious  influence. 

"  jRcscard  itn'>t-'  it  is  tlie  faftlt,  or  perhaps  the  mis- 


VALSINORE.  S3 

fortune,  of  your  countrymen  to  want  entbusiasm  ;  but, 
to  tlieir  lioMor,  tliey  are  as  liberal  in  rewaidiiiu;  merit 
once  aeknowledj^ed,  as  tbey  are  slow  in  its  tliscovery. 
Let  ciMiiai^e  and  perseveranee-he  your  motto,  and  you 
A\ill  ti*iiin)i)h  over  diseoiiragement.  I  am  not  indeed 
f;. miliar  witb  tbc  details  of  your  profession,  but  1  feel 
assui'ed,  it  is  one  in  wbicb  real  merit  cannot  lt)n,fi^  remain 
buried  in  obscurity.  But  you  must  forj^et  tbe  romantic 
visions  of  youtb — every  tbing,"  added  be  smilinsj,  ♦'  but 
Cordelia." 

«*  And  tbat  vision,"  said  Altamont,  "  is  perbaps  tbe 
most  extravagant  of  all." 

"  Not  totli(^  man  w  bo  sball  really  deserve  bcr.  Am- 
bition," add'd  be,  *'  is  a  nobb^  passion  ;  but  let  it  bnd 
some  object  in  tbe  beart,  ami  lose  its  native  bardncss,  by 
mingling  \vi_tb  tbe  best  and  jlearest  affections." 

In  sucb  conveisation  Altamont  insensibly  forgot  tbo 
■'disparity  in  tbeir  age,  and  poured  fortb  bis  youtbful 
feelings  witli  ingenuous  confidence. 

Ualler  oncv^  said,  "  Tbe  young  accuse  tbe  old  ofM^ajit 
of  sympathy  ;  but  it  is  tbe  old  who  arc  sligbt«-d  and 
iieglccied,  because  tbeir  feelings  can  only  be  understood 
by  tbose  vvlia  liave  arrived  at  tbeir  own  experience. 
The  same  passions  wbich  now  reign  in  your  soul  bavc 
prevailed  in  mine  :  I  understand  tbeir  language,  and 
am  iiu  adept  in  tb;'ir  idioms  ;  but  i  bavc  since  known 
feelings  witb  wbicb  you  bavc  yet  formed  no  acquaint- 
ance, and  for  these  I  should  vainly  ask  consideration  or 
6y\upiitby." 

AlSanifuit  was  sometimes  iTminded  of  bis  intimacy 
witb  VVoodvillc,  of  whose  cliaracter  be  gave  a  sketch 
witli  equal  animation  and  fidelity.  He  lamented  tbe 
lapse  in  tbeir  e;rrt'spondence  :  but  conscdcd  bin>stlf 
with  the  pcrsuasi.Mi,  tbat  bis  friend  was  now  enjoy- 
ing t  use  and  prospej-ity. 

Uu'-  evening  as  be  was  walking  witb  TIaller,  convers- 
ing on  this  siii>j*ul,  and  r>-giMtting  tiuit  a  man  of  such 
talents  sli-  i:lil  have  been  lost  to  tbe  world,  be  passed  a  per- 
son whis;  (ig^ire  so  strongly  resrujbled  Woodvilb's  that 
be  had  aiuiost  pronounced  bis  name,  when  he  was  start- 


84.  VAXSINORE. 

led  by  liis  ghastly  hat^gard  countenance.  A  moment's  re- 
flection convinced  him  this  could  not  be  Woodville.  In 
his  momentary  view  of  the  sti*angei',  he  had  observed 
that  he  was  sliabbily  dressed,  and  had  the  appearance  of 
abject  poverty  ;  besides,  he  looked  so  much  older,  that 
it  was  clearly  impossible.  The  impression,  however, 
dwelt  on  his  mind,  and  he  was  unusually  pensive,  when 
Haller  suddenly  begged  him  to  take  the  address  of  a 
Hamburgh  banker,  w  ith  whom  he  was  acquainted,  and 
through  whose  mediimi  he  might  always  hear  of  him 
whilst  he  continued  in  existence. 

At  parting  for  the  night  he  bade  him  farewell,  and 
sliook  his  hand  twice,  but  without  intimating  his  intend- 
ed departure ;  nor  was  it  till  the  next  morning  that  h« 
knew  his  friend  was  really  gone,  having  left  the  house 
at  day-break,  and,  as  was  supposed,  with  the  intention  of 
proceeding  immediately  to  the  place  of  cmbaikation. 

Altamont  was  dissatisfied  with  this  abrupt  exit,  in 
wiiich  he  almost  fancied  he  detected  an  eccentricity  un- 
worthy of  so  sublime  a  character.  But  he  dwelt  not 
long  on  this  Invidious  subject;  he  recollected  his  en- 
gagement to  return  to  Beaclidalc,  and  with  such  precip- 
itation did  he  prepare  to  fulfil  it,  that  he  took  his  seat  in 
a  coach  which  only  went  witliin  fifteen  miles  of  Valian- 
cy house,  when,  by  waiting  another  hour,  he  might  have 
been  conveyed  within  half  a  n»ileof  the  village. 

On  leaving  the  coacli  he  was  fortunate  enough  to 
procure  a  horse,  on  wliich  he  proceeded  with  such  ex- 
pedition, til  at  before  the  close  of  the  day  he  came  within 
view  of  the  hill  to  which  he  had  so  lately  walked  with 
Haller  and  Cordelia.  The  sun  was  again  sinking  be- 
neath the  horizon,  and  Altamont  animated  by  love  and 
ambition,  contemplated  the  scene  with  unusual  delight. 
He  has  now  just  entered  a  wild  romantic  heath,  by  many 
a  childish  ramble  endeared  to  remembrance.  It  was  here 
and  theie  planted  v. ith  ti'ces,  but  raoi'e  connnonly  che- 
quered only  with  furze,  and  of  so  uneven  and  undulating 
a  surface,  that  at  evei'v  ton  paces  the  traveller  obse"v- 
ed  a  new  landscape  ;  and  though  within  sp quarter  of  a 
mile  of  a  public  road,  perceived  no  vestige  of  any  human 
habitation. 


TALSINOKEr  %5 

AUamont  was  gallopinj^  down  a  declivity,  when  lie 
jpercoivcd  before  liini  another  solitary  liorsenian.towhoin 
a  footpad,  wlio  at  tiiat  moment  issued  from  an   adjacent  \ 

thicket,  was  presenting  a  pistol.     lie  instantly  spin-red  ' 

his  horse  to  the  spot ;  the  j^entleman  was  in  the  act  of 
delivering  his  pursf,  when  the  robber,  perceiving  Alta- 
Tnont,  dropt  the  pistol  from  his  hand,  and  darted  back 
to  tbe  c.)pse,  yet  not,so  precipitately  but  that  liis  feat- 
wres  might  be  distinguished,  and  discoverd  again  the 
pale  haggard  countenance  so  strongly  resembling  Wood- 
ville.  In  tbe  meanwhile,  Altamont's  horse  having  ta- 
ken fright  at  the  ))isto],  which  exi)loded  in  its  fall,  threw 
his  rider  w  ith  such  violence,  that  his  right  arm  was  Jis- 
locuted. 

Tbe  person  to  whose  relief  he  had  arrived  thus  oppor- 
tunely, and  who  was  no  other  than  De  Lille,  now  ad- 
vancing to  the  spot,  assisted  him  to  rise,  and  with  many 
acknowledgements  for  his  kind  interposition,  conducted 
him  to  a  hovel  on  the  other  side  of  the  heatli,  from 
whence  he  dispatched  a  boy  for  a  surgeon,  who  lived  in 
the  next  village  ;  and  then,  as  Altamont  declined  rc- 
nvuniting  ills  horse,  De  Lille  left  it  with  liis  own  to  tho 
charge  of  the  peasant  who  lived  in  this  hut,  and  walked 
with  !iim  leisui*ely  to  Bcacbdale.  On  tiieir  way  tht  y 
could  talk  of  nothing  but  the  late  adventure.  De  Lille 
ubsorvod,  that  often  as  he  had  traversed  that  lieath,  it 
was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  met  with  any  interrup- 
ti')n  ;  and  then  added,  that  to  spare  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ter unnecessary  uneasiness,  it  wouhl  be  well  to  suppi-ess 
any  mention-of  the  intended  robl>ery.  "Not,"  added 
he,  ♦*  that  I  do  not  wish  to  do  justice  to  your  gallantry.** 

Altamont  readily  concurred  in  the  proposal  ;  and  De 
Lille  added,  "  as  to  the  wretch  who  attacked  nie,  I 
could  identify  him  at  any  time ;  had  you  not  a  view  of 
his  face  l*'' 

"  I  certainly  had  a  glimpse  of  his  features,  and  they  . 
stv'Migly  reminded  me  of  a  much  esteemed  friend,  whom 
it  is  inip'jssiblc  it  should  be." 

"  'Tis  a  strongly  mai'ked  countenance,"  replied  De 
Lille,  "  and  I  should  know  it  in  any  fpiaitcr  of  the  globe. 

H 


S6  VALSINOItE. 

lie  has  a  remarkable  furrow  in  his  foreliead,  probably 
occasioned  by  accident,  \\  hich  would  distinguish  him  a- 
jnong  ten  lliousand." 

*'  Do  you  tbink  so  slight  a  mark  decisive  ?"  said 
Altamont,  *'  for  tbat  1  remeniber  too  in  my  fiiend." 

«  Oh,  there  ai-e  otiier  marks,"  said  De  Lille,  care- 
lessly, "  but  for  the  present,  wc  will  say  nothing  about 
liim> 

Altamont  was  nearly  exhausted  when  he  reached  the 
house,  from  whicli  Cordelia  happened  to  be  absent  on  a 
visit  wiih  Mrs.  De  Lille  ;  and  he  therefore  missed  what- 
ever pain  or  pleasure  he  might  have  experienced  from 
observing  her  countenance.  In  receiving  the  news,  she 
probably  exerted  some  fortitude,  since  iier  father,  from 
that  time,  seemed  to  have  dismissed  his  suspicions  of 
lier  friend,  and  now  mentioned  liinj  with  cordiality  and 
esteem.  For  some  days  be  was  confined,  by  the  conscr 
quences  of  tbe  accident,  to  his  chamber  ;  it  was  certain- 
ly tantalizing  to  be  thus  estranged  from  Cordelia ;  nor 
was  he  consoled  by  her  fatlier's  daily  visits,  and  specious 
but  lieartless  courtesies,  for  the  loss  of  her  endearing  so- 
ciety. During  bis  impiisonment,  he  received  a  very 
sprightly  letter  from  Valiancy,  who  app.'ared  to  have 
almost  forgotten  the  Incogmtu  in  liis  parliamentary  anti- 
cipations. 

De  Lille  received  an  invitation  to  Lord  Marmiton's, 
which  he  was  too  politic  not  to  accept ;  and  liaving  now 
detected  the  secret  of  his  wife's  perversi  ncss,  he  menti- 
oned Altamont  to  her,  in  terms  of  praise  very  difleivnt 
from  the  language  he  had  once  addivssed  to  Cordelia. 
This  judicious  stratagem  succeeded  ;  and  when  the  inv 
lid  was  sufliciently  recovered  to  rejoin  the  family,  wiiic] 
happened  during  De  Lille's  absiiice,  he  might  have  bee 
struck  with  the  change  in  her  deportment,  if  he  coul 
iiave  attended  to  any  thing  so  insignificant  in  the  pre- 
sence of  Cordelia.  Not  that  he  was  immediately  restO' 
rfed  to  all  the  privileges  he  had  previously  enjoyed. 

Each  liad  acquired  a  certain  consciousness,  whic 
checked  the  flow  of  sympatliy  ;  and  both  missed  th( 
venerable  aspect  of  iiaUer,  iii  whose  society  they  couli 


VALSIXORE. 


sy 


watch  each  other's  looks,  witliout  bctrajino;  vis^ilance 
or  fi'ai'inj^  detection.  This  new  situation  jjrodiiced  not 
in  eacli  a  similar  change  of  sentiment.  Altaniont,  oh- 
scrvini^  in  Cordelia  so  mtich  more  reserve,  was  secretly 
discouraged  by  her  altei'ed  deportment ;  and  as  his  jias- 
sion  increased,  his  confidence  diminished.  Conlelia 
from  her  anxiety  to  prcseivc  his  friendship,  had  a  la- 
tent sus])icion  of  his  h)ve  ;  not  that  she  admitted  to  her- 
self, Nvluit  slic  at  once  hoped  and  feared,  and  douhted 
and  believed  ;  b;it  siie  (hvaded  her  fathei"\s  scrutiny, 
aiid,  as  she  coidd  n.)t  be  disingenuojis,  his  enquiry. 
She  dreaded  the  possi!)ility  of  seeing  him  treated  by  her 
family  with  rudejuss  and  contempt.  Above  all,  per- 
liaps,  she  diraded  the  susi)ension  of  that  familiar  inter- 
course, the  loss  itf  that  endearing  sympathy,  at  once  so 
satisfying  to  the  heart,  so  congenial  to  tht'  fancy,  froni 
which  slie  received  siich  deliglit.  In  this  dihtnma  of 
sentiment,  l«>ve  itself  became  her  monitor ;  and  as  they 
weiT  fully  at  liberty  to  select  their  own  amusement,  she 
re(|uested  him  to  renew  his  instructions:  protesting  she 
was  ambitious  to  convince  him  that  she  could  now  be  an 
exeniplai-y  j)upil.  A  monarch  could  not  have  conferred 
on  Altamont  a  title  he  held  so  dear,  as  that  of  Cordelia's 
prcce])tor. 

But  what  shall  be  the  subject  of  their  studies?  She 
has  magnanimously  resolved  to  forsake  the  Elysiaii 
fields  of  poetry,  for  the  higher  regions  of  philosophy. 
Timidity,  for  once,  jissinning  the  office  of  wisdom,  in- 
volves in  one  ruthless  proscription  all  the  enchantiujj; 
graces  of  the  imagination  ;  and  that  every  thing  Icadini; 
to  sentiment  may  be  banished  from  conveisation,  she 
professes  a  desire  to  ascend  to  that  mathematical  sphere, 
so  rarely  explored  by  her  sex.  Altamont  himself  has 
little  relish  for  tins  absti'acted  world  ;  but  any  world 
becomes  deliglitful  with  Cordelia.  And  now  behold  her 
listening  with  patient  endurance,  to  such  words  as, 

**  Isosceles  and  parellel, 
«»  Words  hard  to  speak,  and  hard  to  spell  5'' 

H2 


88  VALSINOKE. 

<^hilst  Altamont,  with  composed  gravity,  discourses  on 
tlic  radii  of  the  circle.  But  little  docs  this  frii^id  laii- 
cjiiagc  correspond  with  the  impassioned  enthusiasm  kin- 
diinj^  in  his  eyes,  whenever  he  glances  on  the  lovely  pu- 
pil, who  receives  the  lesson  with  a  bewitching  air  of 
deference  and  docility,  yet  often  fails  to  collect  its  im- 
port, from  the  attention  spontaneously  offered  to  the 
now  indulgent  and  devoted  tutor.  The  perusal  of  tlie 
legend  is  still  postponed  to  some  more  propitious  mo- 
ment ;  it  is  perhaps  an  innocent  device  of  the  heart,  to 
prolong  by  the  anticipations  of  fancy,  the  precious  inter- 
val of  enjoyment.  But  this  felicity  approaches  its  close. 
Mrs.  De  Lille,  with  triumph  in  her  eyes,  atmounces  the 
arrival  of  Miss  Rouvigny  in  England,  and  instantly  re- 
minds Altamont  of  his  promise  to  entice  her  Valiancy 
back  to  Beachdale. 

Cordelia  loved  Adela ;  yet  she  could  not  rejoice  at  the 
intelligence,  since  she  had  a  presage  that  her  arrival  was 
to  be  the  sig'nal  for  Altamont's  departure.  *«  She  was 
too  much  fatigued  to  write  herself,"  reiterated  Mrs.  De 
Lille ;  "  but  Sir  Frederic,  who  is  all  impatience  to  re- 
turn, promises  she  shall  be  restored  in  a  day  or  two." 

Cordelia  changed  countenance  ;  her  emotion  escaped 
the  wary  Mrs.  De  Lille,  but  was  observed  by  Altamont, 
so  much  more  lynx-eyed  is  love  than  even  susj)icion. 

The  first  moment  she  was  alone  \\ith  Altamont,  she 
offered  to  restore  the  manuscript  on  condition  that  he 
should  read  it  to  her  on  th^  morrow.  Altamont  is  too 
Iiappy  to  escape  from  Euclid;  his  ardor  for  the  manu- 
script is  revived ;  for,  of  late,  curiosity  had  been  sus- 
pended, and  even  gratitude  absorbed  in  a  dearer  object. 
Thotigh  delighted  with  to-day,  he  tiierefore  longs  fop 
the  morrow,  which  promises  him  so  much  enjoyment. 

The  morrow  came ;  tiie  family  as  usual  assembled  at 
-Jie  breakfast  table,  v/licn  both  Altamont  and  Cordelia 
were  struck  with  tlse  perplexity  in  Mrs.  De  Lille's  coun- 
tenance, who,  having  hastily  swallowed  a  cup  of  tea, 
arose,  and  darted  through  the  park  towards  the  Grange, 
the  residence  of  tUo  wealthy  farmer  Mr.  Mapletoft,  and 
i'or  some  years  the  retreat  of  Mrs,  Gladwin's  aid  protegee. 


VALSINORE.  89 

In  the  last  three  weeks,  Mrs.  De  TJIle  liad  often  vis- 
itc<l  tins  worthy  croatiuv,  to  whom  i\,v  three  3  cars  be- 
fore, she  IkuI  scareely  vouchsafed  a  siiiiijle  civility.  It 
will  be  necessary  to  account  for  this  ehan\i;c  of  condiut, 
thou.a;Ii  Mrs.  De  Lille  herself  would  have  been  at  a  loss 
to  exphiin  the  motives  by  which  she  was  seci'eily  ijillu- 
cnced. 

It  may  be  remembered,  that  th.e  introduction  of  Celi- 
a's  fi'i(  nd  to  tlie  Grange,  nearly  coincide*!  with  the  pe- 
riod of  Mr.  nriice's  departure  from  the  vicara.i^e;  and, 
like  evei'V  other  transaction  effected  by  her  ac;ency,  was 
conducted  in  the  shape  of  njystery.  INIis.  Winifred  was 
no  spinster,  and  expressions  often  escaped  her,  wliicli 
intimated,  that  she  had  been  peculiarly  unfortiniate  iu 
Iier  conju,2;al  connection.  No  mention  was  ever  made 
of  her  family  ;  she  was  obviously  illiterate  and  unedu- 
cated ;  but,  what  was  most  surprisinj^,  she  a])pear'Ml  to 
consider  Celia  as  eminently  her  superior,  though  she 
paid  for  her  boaid  alone,  a  sum  more  tlian  equal  to  the 
income  of  her  nominal  patroness  ;  and  it  was  soon  dis- 
covered, that  s!ie  dispensed  aluis  to  a  considerable 
amount.  Her  ptirse  was  almost  as  accessible  as  her 
medicine  ebest,  in  which  siic  took  infinite  delight.  She 
made  soups  for  the  sick,  distributed  clothes  to  the  naked, 
and  was  soon  worsiiipped  as  the  Lady  Bountiful  of  the 
parish.  In  all  but  goodness,  indeed,  she  was  a  strikini^ 
contrast  to  her  romantic  iViend.  She  was  always  atti- 
red with  plain  and  scrupidous  neatness ;  the  cap  and 
pinner  never  forsook  her  head;  and  a  gown  of  plain 
grey  silk  was  her  constant  unifornu  llcr  dress  was 
not  plainer  than  her  speech  ;  s!ie  made  no  pretensions 
to  literature ;  and,  though  she  had  oncs'^  at  Celia's  re- 
quest endeavored  to  wade  through  the  History  of  En- 
gland, she  soon  desisted  from  the  task,  alledging  that, 
npon  this  occasion,  she  dozed  so  mucii  by  day,  she 
could  not  sleep  at  night. 

With  novels  she  experienced  not  the  same  diffic.ilties  ; 
and  often  did  she  sit  in  her  easy  chair,  grcraning  over 
the  sorrows  of  her  distressed  heroines,  and  raving  at 
tiio  diabolical  tricks  of  their  male  persecutors,    FroDI 


/ 


90  VALSINOEE. 

this  exercise  of  fancy  alone  e«nil<l  it  have  been  suspected 
that  she  was  eapahic  of  one  vindictive  sentiment:  but 
sympathy  betrayed  this  secret  of  hei*  heart,  that  with 
all  her  kindness,  all   her  benevolence,   and  even  Iiei* 
charit)',  she  never  forgot  or  forgave  an  injury ;  often, 
in  her  simph;  language,  declaring,  that  she  eonld  soon- 
er die  than  iiless  her    enemy.      In  Mr.   Mapletoft's 
h)uschold,    slic  had  happily  found  an  object  for  her 
•warmest  affections,  in  a  poor  slighted  youth,  who  had 
been  ti-ansplanted  from  a  numerous  family  ;  and  who 
received  his  maintenance  from  his  rich  relation,  as  an 
act  of  charity.     Feeble  and  sickly,  with  a  decided  aver- 
sion to  all  active  pursuits,  he  was  found  wholly  useless 
on  the  farm  j  and  as  Mr.  ^Mapletoft  chose  not  to  throw 
away  money  on  his  education,  he  was  left  to  himself^ 
and  stigmatized  a3  a  zany,  and  considered  as  an  in- 
cumbrance, till  he  found  a  friend  in  Mrs.  Winifred ; 
who  having  nursed  him  in  an  ague,  soon  conceived  for 
her  docile  patient  the  most  tender  friendship.     Having 
discovered  that  he  was  fond  of  reading,  she  procured  for 
him  through  the  interest  of  Mrs.  Gladwin,  full  access  to 
ihe  library  at  the  abbey ;  where  it  was  his  fortime  to 
attract  the  notice  of  Mr.  Quintin,  wlio  sometimes  em- 
ployed him  as  a  secretary,  sometimes  as  a  reader,  and 
now  and  then  gave  him  in  return  a  lesson  in  the  latin 
grammar,  and  a  pompous  dissertation  on  heraldiy.   The 
jBituation  of  Aleck  Satchell  (as  he  was  called)  was  now 
«hanged.    The  Mapletofts,  perceiving  Mrs.  Winifred's 
predilection,  imagined  he  was  to  be  Iier  heir.    Mr.  Quin- 
tin, flattered  by  his  docility,  pronounced  him  a  prodigif 
of  application  ;  and  Aleck  himself  was  perfectly  satisfied 
that  he  should  some  day  or  other  realize  aU  the  fond  fan- 
tastic dreams  of  greatness,  which  had  been,  he  knew  not 
when,  or  how  long  since,  impressed  on  his  ductile  fancy, 
A  visionai-y  is  almost  always  the  outcast  of  nature  ;  a 
being,  whom  fortune  should  seem  to  have  excluded  from 
happiness,  and  rarely  admitted  within  the  dear  domes- 
tic circle ;  he  has  not  shared  in  the  rich,  unbartered 
blessings  of  friendship ;  the  cheap,  yet  precious,  plea- 
sures of  home.    lie  is  not  found  iii  the  lowest  dftss  oS 


VALSINORE,  91 

poverty.    Whoever  has  to  earn  the  bi*cad  he  cats  is  in 
no  dan,2;er  of  wandering  into  dreams:  but  he  who  wants 
everything  which  the  soul  re(jiiires,  must  inevitably  be- 
come obtuse  or  fantastic.     It  was  thus  wiih  Akck.  whf) 
during  infancy  had  no  phvy  mate,  having  been  adopted 
by  a  superstitious  grandmother,  who  duly  every  niorn- 
ing  shook  her  tea-cup,  and  descanted  on  her  dreams.    At 
iiiglit  she  was  often  disturbed  witli   that  little  spick-r, 
whose  tick-iike  murmur  has  been  supi)osed  to  betoken 
death.     She  saw  portents  in  the  candle ;  and  if  a  coal 
bounced  from  the  fire,  believed  it  was  a  s-unmons  totliC 
grave.     She  was  accustomed  also  to  calculate  on  years, 
even  and  odd  ;  and  had  a  thousand  other  vagaries,  which 
were  dropt  into  Aleck's  car.     She  had  taught  him  to 
read,  and  Jacob  lU'thmen,  and  the  History  of  >V  itch- 
craft  and  of  Apparitions,  formed  his  first  studies.  Once, 
too,  this  care-worn  personage  took  him  to  a  cunning 
woman,  who  told  his  fortune ;   and  predicted  that  he 
should  one  day  be  a  great  man.     The  grandanic  laugh- 
ed ;  but  ever  after,  if  she  was  pleased  with  the  boy, 
would  stroke  his  head,  repeat  the  pro])hecy  ;  and  then, 
looking  into  an  old  court  calendar,  count  over  the  places 
by  the  jmssession  of  which,  it  might  be  accomplished. 
Aleck's  natural  iiutolence  left  him  passive  to  impressions ; 
he  insensibly  acquired  some  vague  conceptions,  that  he 
was  born  to  no  common  destiny,     lie  amassed  in  ima- 
gination a  little  treasury  of  lu)pe,  and  was  satisfied  ^^itll 
l»is  lot.     >Vhcn  he  was  transferred  to    l.T.'.  Mapletoft's 
family,  where   he  had   no  longer  this  fond  flattering 
grandame,  he  endured  eveiy  slight  and  mortification, 
still  trusting,  he  knew  not  why,  to  this  mysterious  pro- 
phecy.    Though  not  blessed  with  instruction,  he  read 
voraciously  whatever  books  he  could  meet  with ;  some 
of  tlipse,  the  refuse  of  an  old  lumber  chest,  hapi)ened  to 
be  of  a  metaj)hysical  cast.     His  early  superstitions  were 
clinging  to  his  mind,    but  this  new  course  of  study 
taught  him  to  despise  their  names,  whilst  hcstill  nou- 
rished his  fancy  with  their  essence.     A  passion  to  ac- 
count for  every  thing,  sudileiily  took  possession  of  hia 
uuud^  and;  reflecting  on  his  grauUiuutUer's  dieftois^  ho 


/* 


Li.  J'  i 


92  ▼A19IN0RE. 

began  to  think  tliat  if  he  knew  the  events  of  the  day,  he 
couhl  easily  predict  tlie  visions  of  the  night.  He  pursu- 
ed tiiis  fanciful  enquiry  witli  success  ;  for  as  he  was  per- 
severing in  iiis  questions,  he  generally  extracted  an  an- 
swer to  coriespnnd  with  his  previous  calculation.  He 
now  went  one  step  farther;  lie  began  to  speculate  on 
the  composition  of  dreams,  and  at  length  fancied  he 
could,  by  making  certain  imjjressiotis  on  the  mind,  in- 
duce any  i)articular  j)erson  to  dream  as  he  pleased.  In 
this  too  he  succeeded,  for  the  same  i-eason  as  before ;  as 
by  dint  of  im})ortunity,  he  sehloni  failed  to  extort  the 
concession  he  wished.  It  is  seldom  possible  to  retrace 
our  dreams ;  the  effort  of  memory  is  commonly  aided  by 
faney  ;  and  with  the  uneducated  people,  on  whom  Aleck 
operated,  one  illusion  is  often  mistaken  for  the  other. 

*»  Why  do  we  fall  in  love  ?"'  was  once  said  sportive* 
ly  by  a  young  man  as  lively  as  Valiancy. 

Aleck  began  to  ponder  on  the  subject,  which  apppared 
to  him  pregnant  with  piiiloso])hy.  He  considered,  that 
the  general  susceptibility  to  tender  impressions  coidd  by 
no  meaMS  explain  the  circumstance  of  particular  predi- 
lection. The  caprice  of  the  passion  was  proverbial ;  it 
was  not(»rious  that  neither  beauty  nor  talents  extorted 
the  preference  ,•  and  what  detcrmine'd  the  affections  to 
o)ie  individual  more  than  another,  was  often  a  problem 
to  the  understanding ;  and  the  occult  cause  had  often 
been  resolved  into  secret  sympathies,  charms,  spells, 
and  incantations  ;  he  observed  tiiat  few  people  dived  in- 
to this  subject,  without  admitting  tlie  operation  of  a  cer- 
tain species  of  fatality,  wliich  supposed  the  attraction 
to  he  invincible.  But  might  not  all  this,  thought  Aleck, 
be  resolved  into  intermediate  mental  agency  ?  May  not 
two  individuals  be  impelled  to  think  of  each  other,  be- 
cause they  have  been  accidentally  associated  together  in 
the  mind  of  a  third  pei-son  ?  Might  not  tliQusfht  flow 
like  light,  and  was  not  its  action  produced  by  vibrations  ? 
This  influence  might  hitherto  have  been  accidentiiily  ex- 
erted, tiioiigh  the  existence  of  its  principle  was  unsus- 
pected ;  as  the  magnetic  property  of  steel  existed  long 
before  its  application  to  tlic  compass.    And  might  not 


VAISINORE.  93 

some  superior  luind.  by  intense,  velirment,  efficient  ap- 
plication, acquire  the  steerage  of  the  liuniun  affections? 

To  the  obvious  objection,  that  such  powi  r  might  be 
misapplietl,  he  had  an  easy  answer ;  that  such  power 
could  never  be  exercised  by  any  one,  wlio  was  himself 
under  the  dominion  of  the  passions  ;  because  it  demand- 
ed that  ardent  and  perfect  devotedness  to  an  absti-act 
subject  of  whicli  no  impassioned  miiul  was  capable.  The 
hypothesis  once  launched,  S(dved  a  thousand  things 
w  hich  had  beoi  hitherto  deemed  insoluble.  It  elucidated 
the  fables  of  mythology,  Axhich  he  conceived  to  be  no- 
thing more  tiian  personifications  of  this  princii)le  :  this 
medium  of  sympathy,  was  by  liini  to  be  reclaimed  for 
mankind.  To  this  be  attributed  the  attachment  of  the 
Spartans  to  their  Lycurgus,  and  tiie  submission  of 
Athens  to  her  Solon. 

<*  It  was  by  intense  abstraction  in  these  sages,"  cried 
Aleck  ;  "  it  was  by  thinking  constantly  and  vehemcnlly 
of  their  fellow  citizens,  that  they  established  tlieir  men- 
tal ascendancy."  Tlien  he  reasoned,  that  the  being  who 
should  be  sublime  enough  to  compel  the  affections,  might 
also  in  time  be  powerful  enough  to  still  the  passions, 
which  had  been  hitiiert(>  pernicious  to  tl»e  woild  :  and 
the  golden  age  of  the  poets,  and  the  Utopia  of  pliiloso- 
phers,  would  be  realized,  wlienever  there  sliould  be  a 
sufficient  number  of  superior  minds  to  balance  and  har- 
monize the  moral  sympathies.  Enchanted  with  his  tlje- 
ory,  he  put  it  to  the  test  of  experinunt ;  and  for  this 
puriM.so,  associated  in  iniaginati  )n  two  young  people  of 
the  village;  tliinking  of  tluni  to  the  fXclt;sion  of  every 
other  idea,  and  witli  an  ardent  aspiratiiui  for  tlicir  fu- 
ture fllcity. 

The  result  was  flattering  ;  for  it  Iiappcned  that  they 
were  soon  united.  Charmed  with  his  first  success,  he 
made  the  trial  on  another  couple  with  similar  results; 
and  for  the  course  of  two  years,  ()[)erated  on  many  more, 
some  of  whom  proved  refractory.  But  being  onee  pre- 
possessed witli  his  faith,  such  failures  did  not  depress 
his  courage  ;  and,  by  degrees,  he  resolved  all  siKdi  cases 
into  unsuitable  tempers,   or  prcvious  attachment.    EU- 


/ 


9i  VALSIXORE. 

therto  however,  he  had  tried  only  on  tlic  youni:^  and  sus- 
ceptible. To  ascertain  the  extent  of  his  power,  he  deem- 
ed it  necessary  to  associate  in  his  mind  two  individuals 
of  another  class.  There  lived  in  the  vilhige  a  carrier, 
whose  name  of  Nicholas  was  familiarly  abbjwiated  into 
Nick.  He  was  a  tall  lank  fii^urej  reniarkahle  for  no- 
thing* but  his  care  and  tacitnrnity;  he  trudged  twice  a 
week  to  the  noighbourittg  town,  at  the  side  of  a  little 
light  cart, drawn  by  a  single  ass.  He  had  buried  his 
wile,  and  api)eared  not  to  think  of  another,  indeed,  ho 
never  wasted  time  in  unprofitable  discourse,  even  to  hia 
customers  :  and  day  after  day  jog^^^d  on,  scarci'ly  open- 
ing his  lips,  except  to  admonish  his  dog,  or  rebuke  hi» 
ass. 

In  Mrs.  Mapletoft's  household,  was  a  tall  elderly  dam- 
sel, so  staid  and  circumspect,  that  slic  was  treated  with 
the  deference  d;ie  to  a  matron.  Aleck,  being  persuaded, 
that  these  two  people  would  harmonize  together,  thoogjit 
of  them  intensely  ;  and  even  at  ctuireh  kept  looking 
from  Nick  to  Betty,  by  which  unsuspected  manoeuvre, 
ho  really  caused  them  to  look  at  each  other.  Whether 
Betty  mused  on  this  extraordinary  symptom  of  attention 
in  Nick  is  not  knov,'n  ;  but  the  next  day  she  was  sent 
to  the  carrier,  by  Mrs.  Winifred,  with  a  small  parcel, 
to  which  she  attaclied  some  importance.  The  damsel 
found  him  too  hoarse  to  speak  :  she  reported  his  case  to 
the  kind-hearted  d.';ctress,  who  immediately  sent  a  bot- 
tle of  elder  wine  and  a  posset  by  the  same  messenger  ; 
various  other  frien()ly  offices  succeeded;  and  Aleck, 
who  had  devoted  himself  to  tlie  object  with  unremitted 
ardor,  had  at  length  the  satisfaction  to  see  them  united  ;. 
and  often,  on  passing  their  snug  little  cottage,  which 
had  been  neatly  furnished  by  Mis.  Winifred,  and  by 
Betty's  care  was  rendered  iight  and  tidy,  he  secretly  fe- 
licitated himself  on  having  been  the  unknown  and  un- 
susp- "ted  agent  of  their  mutual  satisfaction  and  tran^ 
quilit}.  Tills  last  effort  was  so  decisive,  that  he  hasten- 
ed to  Mrs.  Winifred,  to  whom  alone  he  dividged  his  dis- 
covery, and  for  whose  satisfaction  he  now  attempted  to 
explain  his  principles. 


VALS1N011£.  ^i 

Tooxj)Iain  to  another  what  he  knows,  or  fancies  that 
lie  knows,  is  always  a  severe  cftort  to  the  visionary,  who 
iiistincliyely  shelters  the  otlspring  of  his  hrain  in  quiet 
ohscurity. 

Fortunately  for  Aleck,  the  person  selected  for  his  con- 
fidence, opposed  no  slartlinia;  objeeti'ns  to  his  darling 
system,  of  wliich  she  did  not  conijjri  bend  the  iiiijiort. 
Fortunately  too,  he  liad  learnt  to  invi  st  his  ideas  with 
a  di5j;nihed  nonjenclatiire,  whicli  niateiially  scftened  their 
absurdily.  In  imitation  of  many  other  ori.s^inal  think- 
ers, \w  env<'l<>ped  liis  meaninj^  in  a  ])oinpoiis  scientific 
phraseolo,a;> .  and  talked  of  the  lever  of  tlie  hrart,  and 
the  momentum  of  an  impression  :  he  talked  of  cogent, 
and  passive  ai^ency  ;  the  cqtiilibrium  and  the  harmony 
of  the  affections.  With  tliese  maj^nificent  analot^ies, 
liCvScemed  to  iiave  raised  a  substratum  for  his  s^st*  m, 
and  in  pronouncing  certain  words,  he  was  himself  as- 
to)iish<  <1  at  liis  own  fluency. 

Mj'h.  ^^  inifred  lisUtied  with  delight,  conceiving  all 
he  meant  to  eonimunieate  to  refer  to  some  spiritual  mis- 
sion ;  and  with  hcnust  pride,  told  him  she  always  thought 
he  woiihl  come  to  be  somebody.  'J'iien,  as  froni  tho 
crabbed  words  be  used,  she  coneei\'ed  his  operations, 
vbate\er  they  n.ight  be,  to  be  attended  witit  painful  ef- 
forts, she  wouhl  lise  from  her  seat,  and  bid  him  take 
her  easy  cliair,  wliilst  she  wf*nt  to  fetch  sontething  to 
comfort  his  poor  st(uiiaeii.  Cheered  by  her  kindness, 
(foi-  wl;en  does  kindness  fail  to  exhilarate.)  Aleck  again 
pi'opouuiled  an<i  c::poinded,  whilst  bis  good  old  friend, 
looking  sometimes  up,  and  SiUii*  tyrtfSl.dov.n,  pursued  her 
knitting,  yet  often  si<.le  a  riiotunnary  ghiiulf'  at  the 
sp<  aker  ;  as  an  old  affect i'liafc'pui^,  sit*  Wi/ikinf^  '^^*  ^ 
plt^yf  j4  puppy^or  nxn'c  fv.)lieksoine  Mtten,  gar.;lii#wig  . 
ro;;jui  itflffiwu  tali,  fb'  ii  qiri<«tJy  siiMits  hi^eyes.  and  drops 
hih  w!!isk;M'g#yct',  btill  purrine^^  fomlyorfiiinp^ftoHf-^ 
♦pbcjiney.  ,  4^ 

#-41i  tiie  mitfst  o^*j^eck*s  ahstvacti||fis  Slie   wo»4.d   rhice 
her  hand  '>n   bis  n^ref  <  ad,  atffl  turn  back  his  hair,    ^1^ 
«in<:ojh  ^   igain^  AV!tht>vt  causing  eitl:''r    ('.isturbacee^iP^ 
displeasure  5  soineUftiei  delighted  with  the  sound  othis 


L  i..,'\iui. 


'I 


96 


vaxsinore; 


voice,  she  moved  licr  lips  after  liis  ;  but  alas  !  those 
Iiard  words  were  not  to  be  iiiticulated  by  ber  lecble  or- 
gans, and  slie  niiiitteied  mob  ior  mobile,  and  mum  for  mo- 
Qiientum.  Tbe  lever  she  constantly  perverted  to  tho 
cleaver,  not  without  shiiddering  attlie  involuntary  asso- 
ciation. But  his  dirine  harmony  she  was  [deased  to 
hear,  audit  scenud  to  do  ber  heart  good  to  pronounce  it 
after  him.  Sometimes  as  she  gazed  on  Aleck,  wonder- 
ing what  his  fate  should  be,  and  whether  be  would  be 
recompenced  for  his  exertions  in  behalf  of  his  fellow- 
creatures,  a  tear  dropt  on  her  knitting  needle,  and  as 
she  softly  Miped  it  away,  she  sighed  *•  God  bless  thee," 
It  was  a  scene  at  once  tender  and  ludicrous.  The  bc- 
nev(lent  HalUr  would  have  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven, 
and  scci'etly  rejoiced  tiiat  the  human  heart  was  so  richly 
furnislied  with  sympathies,  supplying  the  place  of  intel- 
ligence :  and  that  the  simple  and  the  wise,  the  illiterate 
and  rli'"  !carnp<i,  could  intercliange  kind  confiding  affec- 
tion, and  amicably  consort  together. 


CHAPTER   XIL 


NOTWITHSTANDING  Aleck^s  rcserre,  and  Mrs,| 

f   Vv^inififMj's  discretion,  it  was   rumoured   in    the  village 

that  heposs'sscd  Qjjct'>in  occult  powers.     As  a  seventh 

eon  Iie'^i^as  aheadyvkiitb d  to   some  i-everence  :    and, 

^  from  thc'gii^  .d  of  l^J^staUlwIsment  in  Mr.    Mapletoft's 

f'^IJ^jiiiy,  iPnV  fy^T^ntHM^i  s  dicited  to  furnish    anuiiUits 

''     faPT(;e  ho(»]);Mg-chu£!i  and,^igae.     ^^^^'^MiWcSuj^^imhr 

\^«^>o?^i;jorw6^iimjk^)icautj)%(^^  given  t^o  the  7ki;'rried  par 
•  — ^.  s,  X  ^as  wn^ljuefed,  tloit  herj^ojrldon^k-C  ik>!^de  fl^ 
'-   ^\^J  >^""V'?^'^:«i*'^dra^Sjj^  induce  s 

-'l|^'>^'''/*^''^Ji^''d  cwre  cither' eolds  or  fevci'S  without  uiedi 
V      cTSi^      i  hMfiltle  ho^  g  wer^  sUewee^-^-IlVi  afS^^^.c^'  X^a 

-^-  iiieir.motIl€^ji8  ofteh  stiikdS£eirH3Ss^urs^Yith  his  name'. 


VALSIXOKE.  97 

Some  of  lliese  riimoi*8  had  reached  tlic  domestics  in  Val- 
iancy house:  and  Mis.  Dc Lille,  who  sonutinies  listen- 
ed to  hei- j2;ossi|)in.£^mai(l,  had  been  higid}  amnscd  with 
the  relation.  The  story  was  repeated  with  additions, 
and  she  still  laughed,  but  wondered  what  could  have  giv- 
en rise  to  such  a  belief. 

Sometinics,  in  thinUing  of  her  .son  and  Miss  Ronvig- 
iiy,  she  heartily  wished  that  such  a  power  as  w  as  attri- 
buted to  Aleek.  should  be  lodged  with  motliers,  to  induce 
coni])liance  w ith  tlieir  reasonable  wishes  when  they  could 
no  longer  extort  obedience  ;  not  that  she  gave  the  least 
credit  to  these  tales,  but  she  w  as  curious  to  trace  their 
origin.  It  might,  perliaps,  be  possible  to  extract  front 
this  strange  Aleck  vsome  useful  hint  to  direct  her  own 
movements  ;  at  any  rate  it  was  a  harndess  and  divert- 
ing si>eculation.  The  idea  floated  in  her  mind,  witliout 
exciting  akiy  correspondent  action,  till  after  her  son's 
arrival  at  Beachdale  :  then,  sceptical  as  she  was,  she 
visited  the  Grajige,  courteously  carressed  .Mrs.  Winifred, 
and  by  professing  a  wish  to  see   Aleck    puisuing   somft 

1  lionorable  profession,  obtained  her  complete  confidence. 

[At  first,  she  could  with  difficidty  refrain  from  laughing; 

[but  when  Mrs.  Winified  called  in  Aleck,  and  desired 
him  to  impart  his  knowledge  ;  he  spoke  witli  sucii  ])romp- 
titude  and  confidence,  avowed  liis  owti  convictions  w  itii 
such  unpi-emeditatcd  energy,  aiul  so  veiled  their  absurd- 
ity by  schidastic  or  philosopliieal  language,  that  jMrs. 
De  Lille  found  herself  utterly  confmnuhd,  and  instead 
©f  smiling,  w-.islostin  doubt  and  ama/.ement. 

Perceiving  he  had  made  a  favorabl' impression  on  his 
auditress,  he  launched  forth  with  unusual  energy  ;  »•'  It 
is  nothing  occult  or  strange  :  it  is  \\hat  v\n'\  where 
takes  place.  Kvery  one  possesses  the  faculties  for  this 
ineiitnl  operation  ;  every  one  is  unconsciously  accustom- 
ed  to  ( mploy  it."  *       ! 

•'  Sir."  said  Mrs.  De  Lille,  »«  do  you  mean  to  say 
«iicli  power  as  yoiir's  can  be  acquired  at  w  ill  ?" 

♦*  I  do,  Marhim.  My  secret  is  merely  tittnition  and 
obdraction*    You  have  only  to  think  intensely  of  certain 

1 


/^C 


'.4 


96  VALSINOUE. 

persons,  purelijfor  their  sdkCf  without  any  calculations  of 
interest,  any  impsilses  o^passion.'* 

"  Well,  Sir,  and  shall  I  thus  compel  them  to  think  di 
each  other  ?" 

"  If  thire  he  notlung  imcompatihlc  m  their  tempers, 
«o  previous  prepossession,  you  will ; — he  assured,  Mad- 
am, the  thing  happens  every  day,  without  our  suspect- 
ing it." 

Ilere  Mrs.  De  Lille  very  gravely  asked,  if  he  really 
could  name  any  particular  instance  in  which  this  influ- 
ence had  produced  an  union.  Aleck  smiled  at  the 
question,  arose,  went  up  stairs,  and  presently  returned 
Avith  a  book,  in  which  he  liad  entered  the  names,  and 
detailed  the  progi'css,  of  every  individual  on  whom  he 
had  operated.  In  facts  tliere  is  always  something  that 
imposes  respect.  Mrs.  De  Lille  was  staggered,  and  it 
immediately  occurred  to  her  that  the  real  object  of  De 
Lille's  recent  attentions  at  the  (Grange,  was  to  engage 
Aleck's  assistance  in  creating  an  attachment  between  licr 
son  and  Cordelid  ;  slie  sickened  at  tlie  surmise,  and 
even  went  again  to  ascertain  if  it  was  just. 

Aleck  never  mentioned  her  husband,  and  slio  was  r»t 
length  persuaded  her  conjecture  was  unfownde;!  ;  but.  in 
the  course  of  her  conferences  with  tlie  Vincrnanjf  she 
so  often  thought  Ids  syst;  m  desira'de  that  slie  began  to 
think  it  feasible  ;  she  was  too  sensible  to  ridicule  to 
commit  herself  on  such  a  subject,  and  therefore  caret'id- 
ly  concealed  all  her  newly  acquir;^!  kiiowledgci.  But 
■whilst  Altamont  was  initiating  Cordelia  into  njathemat- 
ical  truths,  she  was  endeavoring  to  initiate  Iiersvlf  into 
Aleck's  subtleness,  secretly  resf.ivingnot  to  trust  btit  to 
nse  him  ;  to  attend  to  his  hints  ;  to  cdlcet  all  Iiis  ide;is; 
and,  if  possible,  to  operate  with  her  own  faculties  in  the 
jmanner  she  wished.  In  ins  instructions  ho  exacted  two 
things,;  almost  eqn;dly  diliicult  and  repugnant  to  her 
chariicter  ;  that  she  should  not  tiiink  of  hers(  if,  nor  of 
any  other  being,  vith  displeasure.  Such  abstraction  as 
tl»is  was  indeed  difficult,  if  not  impossible  ;  yet  Mrs.  De 
liille  iiad  now  so  strong  a  motive  to  use  s<  If-restraint, 
that,  for  a  whole  week,  she  was  never  out  of  temper. 


=H. 


VALSIS'ORE.  99 

The  sight  of  Aleck  Avas  nmv  rsscntial  to  her  tranquili- 
ty ;  aiul,  when  she  had  so  abnii)tly  quitted  tlic  breakfast 
table,  she  hurried  to  the  Graiiqc,  almost  with  as  much 
ardor  as  AUamont  attended  Cordelia  to  the  pavilioiu 
Tliis  imposing  name  wiiicli  had  been  given  to  an  apart- 
EHMit  open  to  the  garden,  fitted  up  as  a  study,  and  em- 
bellislied  with  the  portrait  of  Miss  Rouvigny,  in 
the.  character  of  Flora,  liad  glass  doors  on  each  side, 
tho  one  opening  to  the  lawn,  the  other  to  the  fiowery 
j)arterres,  which  cmbaluicd  the  air  witli  d^'lieious  i'ra- 
grance.  Here  Cordelia  presented  to  Altamonitl'.e  manu- 
script, precisely  as  she  had  received  it  from  Ualler. 
Altamnnt  (ibserved,  at  the  commencement  of  tlic  first 
page,  these  words,  '•  A  legend  lor  njy  children."  Tho 
writing  was  licrfectly  distinct:  Coidelia  took  out  her 
svojk, an<l  he  began  as  fijllows  : 

*~  *♦  1  was  born  on  the  l)aid;s  of  the  Shnnnon,  and  ca^jght 
from  my  nurse  the  ])atriotic  strains  of  Erin  go  briigh, 
I  was  proud  to  trace  my  descent  to  a  line  of  heroes, 
though  conscious  that,  by  inheriting  the  ancient  faith  of 
my  fathers,  I  was  for  ever  excluded  frojn  the  best  and 
dearest  privileges  of  a  Briton. 

**  At  the  moment  of  my  birth,  the  son  of  a  Catholic, 
by  pr(»fessing  the  Protestant  faifh,  acquired  a  discre- 
tionary power  over  his  fath'n-'s  property,  and  usurped 
,  from  his  non-conforming  bi'othc  rs  the  rights  of  primo- 
geniture. It  happened,  tliat  one  of  niy  father's  broth- 
<^rs  thought  proper,  by  viituc  of  this  law,  to  engrops  an 
estate,  which,  in  the  established  oider,  shoidd  haAC  been 
divided  e(|aally  in  the  family.  "J'lic  bas<  ness  of  our 
unworthy  kinsman  was  imprinted  on  my  infant  n.ind, 
and  with  it  an  invctera,tc  pi-ejudice  to  the  heresy  he  had 
embraced. 

"  These  sentiments  were  nui'turcd  by  (education  ,*  for, 
as  among  other  vexations  restrictions,  no  Catholic  was 
permitted  to  exercise  the  functi(»ns  of  atutor,  I  was  sent 
to  a  foreign  university,  where  I  imbibed,  from  the  class- 
ics, an  im]nissir)ned  enthusiasm  for  the  name  of  liberty, 
I  became  loyally  devoted  to  the  house  of  Stuait,  whom 
1  had  been  taught  to  consider  as  the  only  true  reprc- 

I  i 


LlL 


r!A 


100  VALSINOKE. 

sentativcs  of  our  nationfil  sovereigns.  To  explain  tliis 
contradiction,  it  should  be  recollected  that,  as  an  Irish- 
man and  a  Catholic,  I  belonged  to  a  degraded  class  of 
citizens;  and  that  from  experience  and  prejudice,  1  at- 
tributed all  the  evils  of  which  I  had  cause  to  complain,  to 
the  intrusion  of  a  foreign  dynasty. 

**  At  Rome  I  became  intimate  with  the  exiled  princes, 
to  whose  cause  I  was  attached.  I  was  admitted  to  their 
familiar  society,  and  once,  in  a  moment  of  sympathy 
and  confidence,  tendered  to  them,  w  henever  they  should 
be  pleased  to  claim  it,  my  fidelity  and  allegiance. 

<*  During  my  residence  at  Rome,  I  was  united  in 
brotherly  friendship  with  a  young  Englishman  of  my 
own  persuasion,  whose  sister  bad  lately  j)rofcssed  her 
scruples  to  our  communion,  and  avowed  her  preference 
of  the  reforuicd  faitii. 

*•'  My  friend  Albert,  deeply  lamenting  her  apostacy, 
repeatedly  employed  liis  pen  to  combat  her  new  princi- 
ples, and  sometimes  engaged  my  clandestine  assistance 
in  tiie  correspondence.  In  return  for  such  petty  servi- 
ces, he  communicated  to  me  her  letters,  which  were 
sometimes  unavoidably  on  the  same  subject.  In  her  re- 
plies to  his  arguments,  she  often  discovered  powers  of 
reasoning  wliich  extoi'ted  our  admiration.  It  was  im- 
possible not  to  be  charmed  with  tlie  eloquence  of  her 
style,  the  energy  and  iutiepidily  of  her  seiitimcnts, 

**  But  I  was,  at  this  ])criod,  too  muc!>  the  slave  of 
pvejudice,  to  relish  in  an  individual  of  iier  sex  such 
proofs  of  mental  inde|)endonce  ;  and  when  Albert  once 
intimated  a  wish  that  it  might  be  my  fate  to  reclaim  her 
to  the  primitive  faith,  and  to  receive  her  hand  as  tiie  seal 
of  her  conversion,  I  secretly  revolted  at  the  suggestion  ; 
and,  though  assured  tliat  she  was  young  and  lovely,  still 
imagined  for  her  a  masculine  form,  and  a  harsh,  repul- 
sive aspect.  1  hadj  however,  a  strong  curiosity  to  see  so 
extraordinary  a  female,  and,  at  parting  from  Albert, 
promised  to  visit  him  at  his  uncle's  seat  (where  he  resi- 
ded with  his  sister,)  as  soon  as  I  had  seen  my  father, 
who,  from  cares  and  moi'tifications,  was  prcmaUirely 
^^iriking  to  t\\t  s^r^yc^ 


VALSINORE. 


101 


«  I  rpturiicd,  then,  to  the  dear  native  country  whicli 
a  l()nj»'  scas.)U  of  c.straii,i;Tnioiit  had  not  banislicd  from 
remembrance  ;  but  I  itch  ivod  no  joyful  welcome.  From 
the  period  of  mv  uncle's  tisiirpation,  a  soliism  had  pre- 
Yailed  in  our  family.  My  elder  brother  had  been  a  ])ro- 
digal,  and  my  father,  overwhelnied  witii  cha{;rin  ami 
disappointment,  was  about  to  make  a  V(iya!;e  to  Lisbon 
for  his  health,  attended  only  by  my  sister,  who- had  lonti; 
aspired  to  the  reli.^ioiis  vocation.  The  monuntof  meet- 
ing was  almost  inunediatcly  saddened  by  that  of  part- 
in. g  ;  and  for  what  purpt)se  was  I  returned?  The  curse 
of  banishment  still  pursued  my  steps.  In  this  our  belo- 
ved country,  1  was  an  alien  rather  than  a  citizen  :  I 
foinnl  no  occupation  for  talents,  no  scope  for  antbition  ; 
.wherever  I  turned,  some  invidious  cause  of  prosciiption 
opposed  my  pro,e;ress:  to  whatever  I  as])ircd.  jealousy 
or  suspicion  stiginatized  the  clFort  and  intercepted  the 
reeom  pence. 

♦»  The  love  of  fame,  that  noblest  impulse  of  the  youth- 
ful mind,  that  active  spirit  wiiich  \  ivifus  patriotism,  and 
scatters  through  a  [Vee  peoj)le  the  germs  of  every  gener- 
ous aiid  heroic  sentiment,  in  me  was  but  a  self-aunisin,aj 
passion,  fatal  to  my  owli  peace,  and  l)Oonless  to  the 
community.  It  was  little  to  be  excluded  irom  power 
and  privilege :  1  w"a.s  debarred  fiom  hope  :  I  v,as  not 
allowed  to  participate  in  tuitional  gloi-y.  The  oblation 
I  would  have  offered  was  i-ejected  ;  I  was  like  a  stran- 
ger in  the  land  of  my  fatlr.M's ;  I  had  no  access  to  the 
temple  of  honor,  and  was  ulmost  robbed  of  life  in  being 
condemned  to  obscm'itv . 

"  Under  such  circinnstances,  T  determined  to  en- 
gage in  the  Austrian  service,  in  which  foreigners  often 
rose  to  eminence  and  distinction. 

♦<  Un  leaving  Ireland  I  did  not  forg' t  my  frietid  Al- 
bert, who  had  reminded  me  of  my  promised  visit,  and 
was  earnest  in  his  entreaties  to  ]n'event  lay  final  expa- 
triation. 1  determined  to  pass  some  lime  at  his  uncle's 
seat,  and  from  thence  to  proceed  on  my  foreign  career. 
Having  taken  a  silent  farewell  of  the  nninsion  in  whicli 
I  received,  my  biitii;  I  commenced  my  solitary  journey  :.- 

I  3  / 


>1 


102  VALSINORE. 

indulging  a  sort  of  mental  intoxication,  on  which  I  can- 
not now  reflect  without  astonisliinent.  The  painful  cir- 
cumstances in  \Yliicii  1  hail  been  lately  placed  no  h)nger 
operated  0)1  mv  mind.  In  imagination,  J  <)vcrlea]?t  all 
narrow  bounds  and  circuinscrii)tion.  1  had  a  thousand 
visions  of  futurity,  ail  viist  and  magnificent ;  my  auibi- 
tion  was  pure  fiom  envy ;  there  was  no  pinnacle  of 
greatness,  to  wliich  another  had  reached,  btit  my  heart 
iiad  secret  aspirations  for  some  nobler  pre-eminence. 

Tliese  splendid  illusions  of  fancy  were  at  length  dis- 
missed, when  I  arrived  on  the  western  coast  of  England, 
and,  happy  to  escape  from  the  limitation  of  a  vessel, 
proceeded  on  foot  to  my  friend's  habitation.  In  retra- 
cing this  pas.sage  of  my  life,  an  agitation  like  that  of 
youthful  liope  trembles  through  my  fi-ame.  The  most 
minute  circumstances  arc  i-ccallcd  with  the  vivid  sensa- 
tions of  the  moment,  for  of  that  delicious  evening  not  one 
emotion  is  lost ;  not  a  look  escaped ;  nor  is  one  word, 
ene  thought  forgotten. 

*<  It  was  twilight  when  I  approached  ihe  house,  and 
though  unable  to  discern  a  single  feature  of  tiie  landscape, 
1  had  a  general  impression  of  its  beauty.  Tiie  vernal 
fragrance  in  the  air ;  the  luxliriant  foliage  interposing 
its  grateful  gloom  ;  the  mingling  shadows  of  hills  and 
dales,  contrasted  with  the  blue  horizon  ;  the  dashing  ofH 
a  cataract,  heard  only  in  intervals  of  silence,  when  ru- 
ral sounds,  and  all  the  little  nameless  notices  of  human 
neighborliood  were  suspended :  all  these  conspired 
to  create  a  picture  for  the  eye,  and  to  give  a  foretaste 
of  future  enjoyment. 

The  house  had  once  been  a  priory,  and  was  still  ap- 
proached by  along  avenue  planted  with  elm  trees,  which, 
still  gave  it  a  religious  aspect.  I  was  here  kindly  greet- 
ed by  Albert,  who  had  been  watching  my  arrival,  and 
who,  perhaps  to  i)rolong  the  first  precious  mometits  of 
confidence,  conducted  me  by  a  circuitous  route  through* 
the  garden  to  the  house.  The  room  into  which  he  ush- 
ered me  w  as  lofty  and  spacious.  I  perceived  at  one  of 
the  Venetian  windows  a  female  figure,  not  one  feature  of 

fvbosQ  face  was  now  (Usc«mbk.    gUe  was  imstautljr  wr, 


VALSIJTORB.  1(^3 

ijoiinccd  by  my  friend  as  his  sister ;  the  Susanna,  with 
vIiosLi  mind  I  fancied  myself  so  well  acqmiinted,  but  who 
welcomed  me  with  so  sweet  «iid  fianlc  a  voice,  as  at 
once  disarmed  nic  of  half  my  prejudice.     When  she  left 
the  room  to  ajive  orders  i'nv  my  reception  I  perceived  a 
sort  of  glooniv  void  ;  when  she  returned  ami  renewed 
the  attentions  due  to  her  hrotlier's  friend,  joined  in  tho 
conversation,  >\itli  tliat  modest  frankness,  tbat  charm- 
ins;  spontaneous  (;oiirtesy,  which  belon2;s  to  iini(»cencc, 
I  forgot  wlu're  1  was  ;  1  h_ad  no  faculties  for  any  other 
object.     Yet,  m  liilst  my  eyes  followed  her  gi-aceiid  mo- 
tions, and  1  listened  almost  w  ilh  devotion  to  her  encliant- 
ing  accents,  1  wished  to  jn'olong  the  obscurity  by  which 
she  was  half  concealed,  with  an  avaricious  love  of  plea- 
sure.    I  almost  feared  to  see  her  face,  lest  it  shouhl  not 
harmonize  with  the  image  already  traced  by  fancy.    But 
the  apprehension  was  unfounded ;  her  countenance  re- 
vealed the  loveliness  of  her  character  ;  her  fine  featju'cs 
were  alw  ays  lighted  up  w  ith  intelligence  and  sensibility  ; 
but  at  times  there  was  in  her  eyes  an  emanation  of  soul, 
!  a  look,  an  expression,  all  unearthly  :  not  the  transient 
lustre  of  youth,  but  the  bright  refulgence  of  immortidity. 
♦♦  I  retired  w  arm  with  admiration  ;  and  by  a  st?*ange 
contradieti<m,  1  found  the  very  qualities  by  w  hich  I  had 
^previously  been  repelled,  among  tlie  most  powerful  and 
irresistible  of  her  attractions.     That  a  woman,  so  young 
and  so  gentle,  should  have  been  capable  of  such  energy 
and  intrepidity  ;  that  she,  who  seemed  from  her  delica- 
cy and  softness,  formed  for  love  n!one,  shoidd  have  da- 
red, from  princii»le.  to  brave   the  reproofs,   or,  what 
was  more,  the  atfeetionate  persecution  of  her  famih .— • 
it  was  this  paradox  in  character  that  at  once  touched 
and  subdued  my  soul  :  it  was  for  Susanna  alone  to  re- 
concile such  contradictions  :  there  could  be  no  second 
Susanna  in  the  universe  !  • 

*♦  Yet  with  all  my  enthusiasm,  I  sighed  for  her  apos- 
tacy;  and,  with  a  lover's  zeal,  deternnned  to  attenipt 
her  conversion.  It  was  on  a  delicious  morning,  and  du- 
ring a  rural  excursion  wliich  had  been  j)lanned  f.r  flie 
pui'pose,  that  1  entered  on  my  aiduoiis  task.    The  iuob* 


1^ 


1! 


toil  VALSINORE. 


voliii)tiious  odour  embalmeil  tlie  air,  the  birds  were  sing- 
ing- around  lis,  and  the  sonj^s  of  the  merry  rustics  re- 
sounded on  every  side.  >,\ver  wiis  there  such  a  scene 
for  polemical  discussion,  and  never  was  tlicre  so  lovely  a 
disputant.  But  h(Av  was  1  astonisl)cd  t'»  discover,  un- 
der her  Si;entle,  modest,  unobtrusive  simplicity,  the  most 
comprehensive  p'iw;^'rs  of  understandin.s;,  enforced  by 
tise  most  touchin.j^,  artless,  all-p'-rsuasive  eloquence. 
Insicad  of  reformin.K;  hei-  faith,  1  endangered  my  own  : 
Ijcr  answers  cxcit  d  doubts  never  before  admitted  to  my 
mind :  for  the  first  time,  1  leai-nt  to  distrust  the  impo- 
sing name  of  authority  :  love  bad  given  a  lesson  of  can- 
dor, an<l  I  suon  became  so  liberal  in  my  concessions,  that 
Susanna  would  say,  with  a  smile,  I  was  more  than  half 
a  heretic.  But  our  social  hours  were  n!>t  confined  to 
such  subjects.  Tiie  delights  of  licr  society  ^^erc  inex- 
haustible; her  judgment  was  so  prontpt,  her  taste  so 
exquisite,  hei'  impressions  so  vivid, — and  yet  so  dcej/, 
so  lively,  and  still  so  p?rtnanent :  her  sympcsUucs  were 
so  widely  diffusive,  her  principles  so  pure,  her  benevo- 
lence >so  expanded,  she  inspired  virtue  by  her  bold  con- 
viction of  its  existence.  All  her  ideas  were  of  sponta- 
neous growth,  and  she  scattered  them  with  fi'ank  and 
guileless  simplicity,  unconsciously  cnriciiing every  sub- 
ject on  wliich  she  toucli  d. 

**  Several  months  passed  in  tliis  delightful  intercourse, 
in  which,  without  ever  mentioning  love,  we  mutually 
demonstrated  affectioii.  My  intended  travels  were  sus-ji 
pended,  or  rather  forgotten.  1  became  more  ardently|l 
attached  to  liberty  for  Susanna's  sake:  she  inftised  into 
me  a  new  soul :  the  mist  of  prejudice  dispersed  from  my 
eyes :  the  leaden  weight  of  bigotry  was  removed  from 
my  heart. 

*'  Albert  bad  at  first  obsoi'ved  our  friendship  with 
•  pleasure;  an»l  he  again  inlimated,  that  if  Susanna's  con- 
vei'sion  w  as  effected,  the  disparity  of  fortune  on  my  part 
Would  form  no  objection  with  his  uncle,  on  whom  he  and 
his  sister  were  equally  <lepende)it.  But  I  was  no  longer 
anxious  to  aecf>mplisli  tliis  object :  and  I  was  too  inge- 
nuous to  disguise  the  change  in  my  scntiiueuts.    fVom 


VALSTNORB.  105 

hat  moment,  my  friend  assumed  a  different  aspect.  I 
,was  Ijtgiiinin.s;  to  perceive  the  <'Strant;emcnt,  wlien,  fa- 
tally for  me,  the  Fi-etcnder  made  his  loni^  meditated  in- 
vasion, and  recalled  my  former  pledge  of  scivice  and 
fidelity,  'riionii^h  far  fnun  liavinpj  ac((uii'ed  Just  concep- 
tions of  tlie  Knglish  constitution,  I  had  insenHibiy  cor- 
rected many  of  my  foimer  eirors,  and  was  no  lon,ij;er 
abstird  enough  to  conceive,  that  the  welfare  and  pros- 
perity of  those  powerfid  realins  should  he  hazarded,  for 
the  sake  of  one  unfortunate,  hut  imprudent  fauiily.  Yet 
a  pronjise  was  so  sacred  an  obligation  :  to  desert  a  fi-iend 
in  the  monuiit  of  difficulty  and  danger,  implied  such 
dereliction  of  principle,  sucii  baseness  of  sentiment,  tliat 
1  could  not  dcci(U'  to  cancel  the  engagement.  Albert, 
thoiigh  he  blamed  my  former  infatuation,  now  not  un- 
willing to  see  mc  separated  from  his  sister,  pronounced 
my  eitgagement  irrevocable  by  the  laws  of  honor  ;  and, 
by  my  romantic  mind,  the  laws  of  honor  were  omnipo- 
tent. I  could  conceive  no  degradation  so  dreadfid  as  the 
consciousness  of  deliberate  tivaehery,  and  pusillanimous 
desertion.  Rashly,  therefore,  I  engaged  in  an  enter- 
prise, from  its  first  movement  dcvote<l  to  destruction ; 
madly  tore  myself  from  Susamia,  though  1  witnessed 
iier  silent  anguish,  and  discovered,  even  in  her  averted 
eyes,  the  assurances  of  tenderness  and  affection. 

"  I  pass  rapidly  over  this  act  of  folly,  on  wliich  I 
ciinnot  now  v.  itii  ])atie!iee  ivflect.  The  fate  of  the  ex- 
pedition was  soon  decided  ;  and  foi'  myself,  I  had  ha- 
zarded and  lost  all  for  honor.  I  was  kno\vr«  in  the 
eariip  by  a  Scotch  name,  which  I  had  assumed  from  mo- 
tives of  tenderness  to  my  family,  wisom  [  was  unwilling^ 
to  involve  in  the  consequences  of  my  temerity.  Under 
this  fictitious  title  n«y  person  was  minutely  described, 
:uk1  a  reward  offered  for  my  apprehension.  Various 
were  the  stratagcnr.  I  employed  to  elude  discovery  and 
pursuit;  not  for  the  sake  of  piolonging  life,  since  I 
twice  rejected  the  ojjportunity  of» escaping  to  France; 
but  with  the  hope  of  once  more  seeing:  rny  Susanna,  whose 
image,  supreme  in  loveliness  and  tiutli,  still  threw  a 
gkam  of  niomeutary  bliss  over  my  wretched  existence. 


106  VALSIXORE. 

Animatofl  by  lliis  object,  I  encountered  perils  and  bard- 
ships  innumerable,  till  finally  I  arrived  within  a  few 
miles  of  the  spot  where  I  had  first  knowii  her.  At  this 
distance  from  the  .scene  of  hostility,  I  conceived  myself 
safe,  or  ratiier  had  no  further  inducements  for  consult- 
inj^  safety ;  I  tliercfure  discarded  the  dis.^uise  in  wliich  I 
had  performed  the  last  part  of  my  journey,  and  eagerly 
proceeded  ;  not  with  liie  dejected  aspect  of  an  outlawed 
m;in,  but  i-ather  with  the  ardour  of  the  bappy  lover,  wiio 
desi'iics  the  goal  of  hope,  and  already  anticipates  the 
rapturous  v/clcoa:e.  I  approaclied  ti:c  niansion,  and 
tliougli  no  longer  greeted  in  the  avenue,  i  almost  me- 
chanically struck  into  the  same  path  by  which  Albert 
had  led  me  to  the  garden  ,•  and  without  seeing  a  servant, 
or  other  human  beiug,  pi-oceod-^d  as  before  to  the  room 
in  which  I  had  fiist  beiudil  Siisanna,  when  I  found  it 
blank  and  empty.  A  sudden  fear  chilled  my  Iicart.  I 
shoidd  have  concluded  the  house  to  be  desolate,  had  I 
not  beard  fi'om  an  adjoining  apartment,  two  voices  in 
angry  altercation.  M}  own  name  was  pronounced  with 
churlish  imi)atience  ;  1  scarcely  attended  to  the  import 
of  tlie  words,  so  intense  was  my  stdicitiule  for  Susanna.- 
As  I  listened,  [  heard  an  outer  door  recoil  with  violence; 
tbei'e  was  t lien  a  pause  of  sil'Miee,  in  which  I  had  no 
power  to  move.  A  c  juvnlsive  tremor  shook  my  wiiolc 
frame.  I  dreaded  to  hear  that  Susanna  no  longer  exist- 
ed. At  this  moment  I  was  startled  by  a  sigb,  so  deep, 
so  plaintive,  tbat  it  might  have  touciied  the  most  obdu-  . 
rate  heaii:,  but  to  mine  it  was  the  blessc^d  harbinger  of 
joy,  for  Susanna  S]joke  with  her  own  dellghtfiil  voice. 

"  *  Oh  brother,  how  can  you  change  from  so  warm 
a  fi'iend,  to  so  bitter  a  foe  ?' 

*'  *  1  loved  him,  till  I'.e  betrayed  my  confidence  ;  and, 
with  base  by])ocrisy,  under  the  pretext  of  restoring  your 
faitii,  inveigled  your  affections.' 

*'  <  Coriieliiis  is  incapable  of  hypocrisy :  how  can 
yon  be  so  suspicious^' 

"  '  How  ean  you,  Susanna,  be  so  credulous  ?  Think 
not  he  w  ill  be  constant  in  love  :  this  apostate  from  hisi 
eluirchj  this  hypocrite  who  deluded  yoiir  brother  j  this 


YAiSIXORE.  10^ 

ooward  wlio  conceals  liis  name  ;  this  traitor,  wlio  has 
cojitrivcd  to  niiikc  his  i  sc;i])o,  in  sonic  pitiful  disguise, 
uilhiot  lonj^-  Uiink.  oi  tlic  gill,  who  would  sacrifice  for 
him  the  honor  other  faniil  v.' 

"  I  coidd  liold  no  lon^rr,  but  transported  at  once  with 
love  and  indignation,  ruslicd  into  the  room.  <  No,*  cri- 
ed I,  *  I  assume  in)  disguise.  1  attempt  not  to  escape. 
Take  my  liiV.     Satisi';>  vour  revenge.' 

"  Susanna,  who  was  at  fust  motionless  with  aston- 
ishment, now,  tlirovNinghrrselt*  between  us,  exclaimed, 
<  Oil,  my  friend,  my  biotiier.' 

"  Alliert  haughtily  replied,  <  Fear  not,  Susanna,  that 
I  shall  sally  ni\  sword  with  liis  blood  ;  but  he  is  a  rebel 
publicly  piochiiined,  and  were  my  uncle  present,  he 
woidd  delivoi*  bim  to  Justice.* 

"  *  Impossible,'  cried  Susanna  ;  *  he  could  not  be  so 
cru^].- 

*»  H'nv,  girl,  would  you  sacrifice  all  your  family  to 
this  apoatato  ?  Are  you  not  aware,  that  it  would  be  at 
ourpnil  to  harbor  him.' 

*'  <  Heaven  forbid.' cried  I,  *  that  any  shoidd  suffer 
for  my  iwiwerihy  sake.  I  came  but  to  take  one  last  and 
<'>ei"!i<sting  look  J  and  now  let  me  go  hence,  no  matter 
Wuithor.*  ' 

"  Nov,  first  feolirg  the  loss  of  strength,  I  staggered 
towards  (lie  (!o;»v ;  a  iiiist  gathered  before  my  eyes,  as  I 
strained  them  to  gaze,  on  my  Susanna.  iVrrif'cd  by 
my  pale  eountcnaiM/r.  she  caught  my  arm,  and  ^itb  gi  n- 
tlo  vi<,!r  nee,  coiapdled  me  tv»  be  seated,  AlbOrt  hinisi  Sf, 
fi.>»r.  ail  invohtntarx  impidseef  jiity,  brought  a  ciiiifil, 
wide''  bis  sister  prr  s<'nn\«  tonn^  lips  :  at  that  moiiK  nthe 
heaid  i  is  inch's  voice,  ant'  with  evident  alarm,  exch'im- 
ed,  ♦  \>  Itai  shall  we  (io  ?  !o  cannot  be  concealed.  My, 
Cornelisrs  !  I  would  not  hav<  !  im  saerificcd.' 

•<  <  No,'  cried  I,  »  here  would  J  die  ;  here  would  I  ob- 
tain my  reieasv* 

»«  <  Madman,  yoa  must  not  die  beneath  this  roof,'  cri- 
ed he. 

*♦  *  Oh,  my  brother,'  cried  vS  i(-arna  ;  "goto  my  un- 
cle, prcveiit  liis  entrance,  whilst  i  assist  him  to  csgape.* 


jin^. 


L 


168  VAXSINOHE. 

«  He  instantly  obeyed  ,•  and  Susanna,  openini^  a  ,a:lass 
ilooi*  wliicli  coMinniMicated  will)  tltc  i;ariien.  coiulueted 
me  h\  a covei'e«l  waiU  to  a  gjotto,  through  which  was  a 
subteiianeoiis  passage  to  the  Park,  which  o])ened  to 
the  country.  Here  hiddin"'  tne  remain,  till  she  should 
send  her  nurse,  a  trusty  old  domestic,  to  convey  me  to 
a  secure  retreat,  she  hastened  back  totlieliouse  to  pre- 
vent suspicion,  and  to  watch  over  njy  safety.  In  about 
lialf  anhour,  her  faithful  agent  aniv^Ml,  and  having  fur- 
nislied  me  with  the  disguise  of  a  ph>ughman's  frock,  con- 
ducted me  by  the  subterraneous  route  to  an  old  ruinous 
edifice  excavated  from  a  cliflT;  wiiich,  l»eing  supposed  to 
be  liaunted,  was  a  place  of  impregnable  security.  Here 
she  usheiT.d  mc  into  an  apartment,  vvhieli,  though  dark 
and  dreary,  was  to  my  surprise,  furnished  with  various 
articles  for  my  use.  And  1  learnt  from  my  attendant, 
that  Susanna,  liaving  lung  expected  my  ari-ival,  had 
chosen  this  spot  for  my  sanctuary  ;  she  added,  that  her 
uncle  was  soon  to  accompany  Albert  on  a  visit  to  a  la- 
dy, to  whom  he  was  to  !)(^  united;  and  that  she  would 
then  see,  and  restore  me  to  liberty. 

'<  The  next  day  she  revisited  me,  with  new  admo- 
nitions to  vigilance.  'ITiough  I  had  happily  not  been 
seen  to  entei'thc  hous<^,  my  approach  through  tiie  Park 
was  observed  :  and  th*"  pusillanimous  uncle,  jealous  for 
his  own  exculpation,  bad  lodged  an  imformation  against 
me.  She  a<ided.  thai  A i!)ert  believed  I  w"as  proceeding 
on  my  Journey  :  and  that  Susanna  conjured  nie,  fur  her^ 
sake,  to  submit  with  ])atiencc  to  my  dreary  captivity. 
Iwas  so  carelrss  of  life,  that  I  should  scarcely  liave 
obeyed  tlie  in)iiucti>  n  :  but  for  my  ardent  desire  to  liave 
one  nu>re  iut'iviewwiih  m\  beloved.  I^ven  with  this 
motive  for  oltvdi  IK".  I  found  the  time  int<derably  tedi- 
ous; soujctiuus  my  att'-ndant conveyed  a  book  to  my 
dreary  apartuierd.  I  had  my  single  lamp,  my  solitary 
seat ;  sanctity  alone  was  wanting,  to  render  this  a  her- 
mit's ell.  ^Ty  in  prtiv'nce  became  extreme,  and  I  was 
tem})t'  d  once  more  to  go  Ixddly  to  the  house,  and  extort 
my  promised  n.teting. 

**  One  evening,  when  even  my  attendant  had  been  for 


YALSINORE.  100 

two  days  absent,  a  light  footstep  descended  to  my  gloomy 
apai'tnient,  and  smiling  like  a  benignant  ungd  of  jwacc 
and  liberty,  I  beheld  my  Susanna. 

•*  «  At  length,'  ciiedslic,  »  J  am  come  to  fulfil  my 
pnmiise.  My  brother,  fully  persuaded  that  you  aro 
now  far  distant,  is  gone  on  his  intended  visit.  With 
the  assistance  ot  your  incomparable  guide,  I  have  pre- 
pared every  thing  for  your  escape  :  your  passage  is  ta- 
ken in  a  vessel  which  is  to  sail  to-morrow  for  Lisbon,' 
and  horses  ai-e  now  waiting  to  convey  you  to  the  port** 
At  these  words  her  countenance  changed,  and  her  voice 
faultered,  as  she  added,  <  Go  then  Cornelius,  whilst  you 
may;  and  in  your  cruel  exile  sometimes  remember  Su- 
sanna.' 

«  '  No,  never,'  cried  I,  *  my  life  is  forfeited,  nor 
shall  yours  be  endangered  by  having  aided  my  esca[)e.' 

*♦  She  began  to  use  that  language  of  entreaty,  which 
from  her  was  almost  always  irresistible,  «  No,'  cried 
I ;  *  since  I  was  infatuated  enough  to  join  the  standard 
of  rebellion  against  the  country  in  which  you  received 
your  birth,  let  the  folly  be  expiated  with  my  blood.  I 
should  not  shrink  from  common  calamities  ;  neithej*  po- 
verty nor  persecution  would  shake  my  fortitude  ;  but  to 
have  a  gulph  placed  between  me  and  happiness,  n<  ver 
to  return — never  to  hope  for  your  recompensing  love  ; 
such  a  separation  as  this  is  despair.  When  1  so  part 
from  thee,  welcome  death,  for  life  is  over.' 

**  Here  she  hesitatrd — she  cast  down  her  eyes — *  But 
suppose  the  case  reversed,  Cornelius ;  suppose  that  I 
were  the  delinquent,  and,  like  you,  an  outlaw,  would 
you  not  make  desperate  efforts  to  redeem  my  life  ?' 

«  *  Susanna,  you  know  I  should  not  think  it  could 
be  purchased  at  too  dear  a  price  j  and  were  I  only 
doomed  to  exile,  you  would  jjerliaps  consent  to  leave 
your  country  for  my  sake.  Susanna,  I  could  be  su- 
premely blest  with  you  in  any  i-egion ;  tlie  love  — — .' 
Thei-e  was  a  short  but  awful  pause  !  She  trembled— 
she  bowed  down  her  head — her  lips  moved  as  if  she  la- 
bored for  utterance,  aiid  at  lengtli,  v\ith  half  averted 
eyes,  she  said,  *  Cornelius !' — but  in  a  tone  so  low,  s* 


- 


k 


lie  valsinore; 

plaintive,  that  as  she  paused,  she  cast  on  me  a  timiil 
i'lance,  uncertain  wliethcr  she  was  understood,  till,  by 
my  increasing  agitation,  she  peiceivcd  that  I  had  heaid 
lier  ;  re-assured,  she  at  length  proceeded — *  Cornelius  ! 
if  you  could  do  so  much  for  me,  think  me  not  quite  in-  | 
canable  of  the  same  constancy :  if  you  could  renounce  1 
fortune,  honor,  fame,  it  is  little  for  me  to  relinquish  a 
counti'y  in  which  I  have  no  longer  connections  or  friends ; 
4'roin  this  moment,  therefore,  be  our  destiny  the  same  ; 
and  if  you  accept  me,  Cornelius,  1  am  wholly  yours."  i 

*«  Amazement  locked  up  my  faculties,  and  for  a  mo-  ^ 
ment  I  was  lost  in  rapturous  entranccmcnt ;  but  herge- 
neiosity  recalled  my  sense  of  justice;  I  resistf^d  her  of- 
fer ;  1  even  rejected  her  love ;  but  she,  who  had  bow 

regained    her  native  energy,    continued : *  It  was 

through  me  you  incurred  this  penalty  :  but,  for  me,  you 
would  have  been  in  another  country,  free,  prosperous, 
and  happy  :  you  cannot  banish  from  my  mind  the  dread- 
ful impression,  that  1  liave  caused  all  your  misery.  The 
munificence  of  a  friend,  who  died  dtiring  your  absence, 
has  supplied  me  with  a  small  sum,  sufficient  at  least  to 
secui-e  us  from  penury.  Though  feeble  by  nature,  I 
can  learn,  for  your  sake,  to  grow  familiar  with  dan- 
ger. Fear  not  my  cowardice  ;  even  now  we  arc  almost 
of  tlie  same  persuasion  ;  let  us  taste  the  same  cup  of  ad- 
versity, and  our  communion  will  be  perfect.' 

«  With  such  arguments  Susanna  prevailed:  I  siib- 
jnJtted  to  her  gtidance,  and  in  three  weeks  \ve  were  both 
transported  to  another  country ;  a  sacred  indissoluble 
bond  attesting  our  union, 

<*  We  arj'ived  at  Lisbon  in  time  to  sec  my  father,  who 
frankly  forgave  my  rashness,  and  bestowed  on  us  both 
liis  paternal  benedicti<m.  Though  evidently  dying,  he 
had  been  |K?rsuaded  to  try  the  effects  of  a  voyage  to  Ma- 
deira, and  gladly  listened  to  our  proposal  of  embarking 
with  him.  My  sister,  who  had  at  length  taken  the  veil, 
remained  in  a  convent  at  Lisbon  ;  but  her  place  was  most 
tenderly  supplied  by  my  Susanna,  who,  as  she  looked  I 
at  me,  seemed  t(»  regard  my  parent  witli  more  tlian  filial  I 
loyQ*    Grateful  for  her  attentions,  he  was  eager  to  au^  I 


valsikort:.  lUb 

ment  our  litrle  treasure  ;  but  he  Imd  been  so  much  im~ 
povoi'ished  by  liis  brother  and  his  elder  son,  that  lie 
could  only  bestow  on  us  t!»c  little  property  he  liad  lately 
I'eeeived  iVom  a  relation  who  had  died  in  Portugal,  and 
to  secui'e  winch  had  been  one  of  his  original  motives  for 
leaving  Ireland. 

*<  But  wealtli  was  not  wanting  to  us  in  our  delicious 
retreat,  wliich  was  situated  on  the  first  ascent  of  a 
mountain,  and  was  indee<l  an  eartidy  paradise.  But  it 
was  not  long  ])ei  mitted  to  my  lather  to  witness  our  feli- 
city :  he  expired  without  pain,  and  his  remains  were 
buried  in  the  church  which  has  been  erected  onthescita 
of  Macham's  Cave,  w  here  tradition  has  placed  his  An- 
na's tomb.* 

(Here  Aliamont  found  a  sudden  break  in  the  manu- 
script; the  character  appeared  somewhat  changed,  the 
style  still  more  altered  at  the  recommencement.) 

"  And  this  is  Madeira  still,  the  same  island  to  which 
I  bore  her,  and  I  am  at  this  niomentwitiiin  view  of  that 
spot  which  contained  our  earthly  paradise.  It  was  here 
that,  day  after  day,  we  contetnplated  the  same  beautiful 
scenes,  and  found  our  admiration  constantly  renewed. 
We  breatiied  in  an  air  soft  and  delicious  as  our  mutual 
love,  find  friendly  to  all.  Tiie  feverish  dreams  of  am- 
bition vanished  from  my  mind.  I  was  reconciled  to  the 
loss  of  glory,  since  it  was  replaced  by  truth,  nature,  and 
Susatma.  Oui*  quiet  pursuits,  our  simple  recreations, 
were  all  heightened  by  emiearing  sympathy :  even  our 
cares  wei'c  converted  to  jdeastires,  by  forming  between 
us  an  augmeni<Hl  bond  of  union.  So  perfectly  did  we. 
now  harmonize,  that  I  had  a  tender  com])unction  in 
witnessing  any  superstitious  rites  and  observances  which 
might  oflend  my  beloved ;  whilst  she,  for  my  sake,  by 
degrees  regarded,  with  somewhat  of  reverential  compla- 
cency, the  errors  we  now  equally  disclaimed. 

*  Macham  is  supposed  to  have  discovered  the  island  in 
the  14^11*  century.  He  had  conveyed  to  it  his  mistress, who 
died  of  fatigue.  The  tale  has  been  too  ofttn  told  to  require 
repetition. 

K2! 


112  VAXSINORE. 

"  We  liad  acquired  a  peculiar  taste  for  happiness— 
a  subtle  and  mysterious  faculty  of  enjoyment.  Our  fe- 
licity rci)oscd  on  integrity,  confidence,  and  truth.  With 
what  delight  did  she  listen  wiien  I  expressed  a  generous 
sentiment !  How  refulgent  were  her  eyes,  when  I  eon- 
firmed  it  by  an  action  of  kindness  and  benevolence !  To 
such  bliss  there  was  but  one  alloy,  the  fatal  anticipation 
of  its  close. 

It  was  from  this  rock,  where  I  am  now  sitting,  under 
the  shade  of  a  branched  palm,  which  was  then  but  be- 
ginning to  shoot  from  its  slender  stalk  ;  it  was  from 
this  spot  that  I  pointed  out  to  my  beloved  the  dale  be- 
side the  church,  where  tradition  has  placed  Macham's 
and  his  Anna's  gi-ave.  How  bitterly  did  we  lament  their 
fate ;  how  gratefully  contrast  it  with  our  own  ;  how  ten- 
derly we  wept  for  their  sorrows,  as  if  they  were  still 
conscious  to  love  or  pity.  <  And  yet,'  cried  Susanna, 
*  it  is  a  consolation  to  reflect,  that  one  did  not  long  sur- 
vive the  other.'  The  same  sentiment  was  on  my  lips, 
and  at  the  same  moment  an  agonizing  pang  of  separati- 
on chilled  our  hearts.  Neither  of  us  spoke,  but  the  im- 
age of  death  rose  to  our  eyes ;  and,  as  Susanna  sunk 
in  my  arms,  we  wept  together. 

«*  *  But  we  are  immortal,'  I  at  length  said.  *  Yes,* 
rejoined  she,  with  her  wonted  energy,  <  God  will  not 
suffer  two  sucli  hearts  to  be  smidered  forever.'  And  is 
it  really  on  tliis  spot  that  1  have  tasted  of  happiness  ? 
By  what  strange  mysterious  process  am  I  tlnis  changed, 
that  I  can  )io  hjnger  pay  any  tender  tribute  to  the  mem- 
ory of  her  who  formed  my  supreme  good.  1,  who  could 
so  fi-eely  weep  for  the  sorrows  of  unknown,  perhaps  ide- 
al, beings,  have  no  longer  a  tear,  to  give  my  own.  My 
heart  is  dried  up.  The  iron  has  entered  into  my  soul, 
and  it  is  benumbed  forever.  I  may  give  alms  in  chari- 
ty ;  I  may  even  speak  words  of  comfort  to  the  afflicted  ; 
hut  I  am  no  longer  touched  witii  distress;  I  am  grown 
familiar  to  the  contemplation  of  evil ;  I  no  longer  desire 
good  ,•  here  am  I,  wretched  and  desolate.  Wliat  a  drea- 
ry ruin,  what  a  dark  sepulchre  is  my  bosom  !  I  am  so 
bereaved  of  hope,  I  have  no  new  forfeiture  to  make  to 


VAXSlNOUte.  113 

disappointment.  It  cannot  be  that  I  have  ceased  to 
love;  since,  even  in  writing  her  name,  the  warm  life- 
blood  rushes  to  my  heart.  Slie  is  never  absent  from  my 
thoughts;  but  I  am  banished  from  her  presence.  The 
sweet  image  no  longer  visits  ?ny  dreams  ;  I  cannot  bring 
her  before  my  mind's  eye  ;  t!ie  features  are  ever  vanish- 
ing ;  the  shadowy  form  dissolves  away.  1  have  a  con- 
viction tliat  shi'  lives ;  yet  for  me,  methijiks.  she  no 
more  exists.  My  faith  is  immutable,  but  hope  is  gone. 
I  am  so  estranged  from  Joy,  I  catniot  imagine  any  thing 
fair  or  lovely.  I  know  that  I  must  live  h(  reafler,  but 
the  aspirations  for  felicity  arc  departed  frouj  me.  I  am 
ready  to  say,  •  And  wi»o  shall  shew  me  any  good  ?'  l 
began  these  memoirs  for  n»y  children.  I  fondly  antici  - 
pated  the  moment  when  I  should  present  them  with  this 
picture  of  their  incomparable  mother  ,•  but  now  for  whom 
should  I  write  oi*  speak  ;  there  is  no  human  being  who 
can  commune  with  me  on  the  only  tht  nie  that  could  givo 
solace  to  my  heart.  That  chureli,  tliis  rock,  this  pahn, 
arc  the  only  objects  tliat  speak  to  me  of  Susanna." 

Altamont  had  proceeded  thus  far,  wlien  his  voice, 
long  faltering  from  etnotion,  totally  failed  him.  Cor- 
delia was  equally  touched  ;  asluimed  of  her  tears,  una- 
ble to  restrain  them,  she  reclined  her  head  on  her  hand, 
concealing  her  eyes  that  they  might  not  too  sti  or.gly  be- 
tray her  feelings.  **  We  will  read  no  more  now,*'  said 
she,  softly,  perceiving  the  manuscript  was  not  finished  ; 
**  it  is  too  much."  «<  And  yet  Cordelia,"  cried  Alta- 
mont, looking  at  her  with  newly  inspired  hope,  "  they 
were  the  happiest  njjon  earth."  A  sigh  escaped  her  ;  he 
took  her  hand,  but  was  alarmed  by  its  icy  coldness.  S!i& 
assiu'ed  him  she  was  well,  but  her  looks  contradicted 
the  assertion.  Altamont  bent  over  her  with  mingled  an- 
guish and  delight;  his  soul  hovered  on  his  lips;  he  had 
no  longer  any  power  to  suppress  tlie  communication  ; 
but  at  this  moment,  when,  all  impassioned,  he  had  for-- 
gotten  every  thing  but  one  object.  Cf)rdelia  suddenly 
"Withdrew  her  hand,  started  from  her  seat,  sprung  to  the 
door  opening  to  the  lawn,  and,  without  a  word  or  look, 
basteued  towards  the  house  with  the  utmost  precipitati- 

K3 


114  VALSINOBE. 

on.  Altaniont  gazed  in  astonislimcnt,  uncertain  whe- 
ther to  attribute  her  flight  to  terror  or  rcsentnient ;  but 
he  saw  not  the  real  cause  of  her  disturbance,  which  was 
1)0  other  than  the  appearance  of  Sir  Frederic  Mowbray; 
vho,  at  the  moment  of  this  ini.seasonabic  interruption, 
was  approaching  from  the  garden  to  tiie  pavilion. 


CHAPTER    XIIL 

WHILST  Cordelia  retires  in  terror  and  confiision,  and 
Altajnont  reflects  with  chagrin  inexpressible  on  hei*  pre- 
cipitate i-etreat;  Sir  Frederic  Mowbray  realizes  all  the 
chimeras  which  had  ever  liaunted  his  diseased  imagina- 
tion. Till  this  moment,  he  had  not  suspected  the  ex- 
change of  names  adopted  by  the  two  young  men  he  had 
met  in  Flanders,  when  he  was  himself  travelling  under 
the  assumed  title  of  Baron  Cromek.  Mrs.  De  Lille 
had,  in  tlie  first  transports  of  congratulation,  confessed 
her  son  was  not  at  Bcachdale ;  and  Sir  Frederic,  exhil- 
crated  by  the  intelligence,  quitted  the  ladies  (among 
\A  horn  was  Mrs.  Rivers,  the  late  c/wpcron  of  Miss  Rou- 
Tigny,)  and  passing  through  the  garden,  ostensibly  to 
proceed  to  the  abbey,  indulging  the  hope  of  surprising 
Cordelia  in  lier  favorite  retreat.  At  the  same  moment 
that  she  perceived  his  approach,  he  was  himself  appal- 
led by  the  glimpse  of  a  line  martial  form,  in  which  he 
easily  recollected  the  young  man  he  had  seen  in  Flanders 
as  Valiancy. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  turn  from  an  object  that  caus- 
ed him  so  much  pain,  and  he  hastily  struck  intoasliady 
path,  to  conceal  his  agitation  ;  but  he  soon  determined 
to  confront  this  real  or  supposed  rival,  and  again  ap- 
proaching the  pavilion,  found  it  empty.  Not  only  was 
Cordelia  flown  ;  Altamont  had  made  his  exit,  taking; 
with  him  the  manuscript  of  Cornelius.  Sir  Frederic, 
60  often  the  sport  of  imaginary  terror,  now  obstinately 


TALSINORK.  11$ 

Insisted  the  most  probable  evidence ;  and  calmed  liis 
spirit  by  declaring,  in  tlie  true  spirit  of  tyrannic  love, 
that  none  but  himself  should  possess  Cordelia. 

HavJTig  re])ressed  his  agitation,  he  returned  to  the 
house,  where  he  found  Mrs.  Dc  Lille  in  almost  rapturous 
delight,  at  the  unexpected  arrival  of  her  son  ;  m  ho,  re- 
pining at  his  long  separation  from  Altamont,  had  accom- 
panied De  Lille  to  Beacbdale.  It  was  long  since  Ids 
mol  her  had  greeted  her  husband  with  such  cordial  smiles 
of  complacency.  For  the  moment  suspicion  was  lulled 
asleep,  and  she  was  sufficiently  com})osed  and  easy,  to 
have  practised  the  difficult  lessons  of  Aleck.  To  com- 
plete her  satisfaction,  she  now  learnt,  from  the  mutual 
recognitions  which  passed  between  her  son  and  Sir 
Frederic,  the  history  of  their  former  meeting,  and  de- 
tected in  defiance  of  the  effin-ts  of  Valiancy,  that  hep 
iieice  was  really  the  original,  recalled  to  his  recollection 
by  the  picture  of  Flora.  Elated  with  this  discovery,  she 
overflowed  with  good  humor,  and  Altamont,  on  joining 
the  company,  was  received  with  unusual  cordiality  and 
kindness.  But  Valiancy,  w  ho  at  once  perceived  her  joy, 
and  its  latent  source,  and  who  had  already  half  discard- 
ed tlie  Jneognita  from  his  mind,  by  a  sudden  revolution 
of  caprice,  was  prompted  to  thwart  her  expectations; 
and  without  expi'cssing  the  least  desire  to  see  his  cousin 
who  was  closeted  with  Cordelia,  walked  out  with  Alta- 
mont, pTOtesting  he  should  no w^  never  look  in  Adela's 
face,  witliout  thinking  of  papers  and  parchments. 

**  The  Incognita,''^  added  he,  "  was  a  charming  girl, 
to  while  away  an  hour  with ;  but  this  heiress,  with  all 
her  leases,  always  came  to  my  fancy  like  a  clumsy  Cy- 
bele  with  a  tower  on  her  head,  instead  of  appearing  a 
nymph  or  a  grace.*' 

«*  You  are  not  romantic  enough  to  quaiTcl  with  hej? 
for  being  rich." 

*»  No,  truly,  if  I  could  but  forget  it ;  but  you  may  ||3 
assured,  she  has  been  taught  to  impute  sinister  motives 
to  every  man  who  speaks  to  her.  Injustice  to  myself^ 
I  oughtto  treat  lier  with  indiffi^rence  j  so  let  lis  spe^iN 
late  on  a  tour  to  Ireland." 

«  Will  you  go  without  seeing  her  J'* 

/ 


116  TALSIirORJi. 

*<  No,  no  ;  not  so  .savage  neither ;  I  am  really  sorry 
to  leave  tlie  poor  thing  shut  up  here,  witli  my  mother 
and  old  Quintin ;  and  Sir  Frederic  not  much  hetter, 
since  he  is  already  encumbered  with  one  wife,  and  pre- 
contracted to  a  second."  Then  without  giving  his  frie»i  J 
time  to  reply  to  this  remark,  he  started  to  another  sub- 
ject i  "  1  forgot  to  tell  you,  I  liave  heard  of  poor  Wood- 
ville." 

"  And  what  have  you  heard  ?  why  should  you  call  him 
poor  ?" 

"  Because  he  is  poor,  and  miserahle  enough.  In  my 
electioneering  expedition,  1  had  occasion  to  spend  two 
or  tliree  days  in  London,  where  I  met  with  Jack  Nev- 
ers,  who  knew  Woodville  in  his  prosperity ;  and  after- 
wards saw  him  in  Ireland,  where  it  seems  he  married  a 
gill  without  a  penny.  He  has  since  been  trying  to  es- 
tablish an  academy,  hut  failing  in  that,  he  attempted  to 
give  lessons  to  grown  gentlemen  ;  that  scheme  failed 
likewise,  and  he  has  since  accepted  some  insigniiieant 
clerk's  place,  and  occasionally  translated  for  the  mails> 
or  reported  for  the  house." 

*'  But  wliere  was  he  to  he  found  ?" 

**  That  V.  as  my  own  question.  His  residence  was  not 
known,  but  he  was  to  be  heard  of  at  the  Chapter  coffee- 
house. I  had  not  time  to  make  enquiries  myself,  so  I  de- 
sired Nevers  to  do  it  for  me." 

"  And  the  result,"  cried  Altamont  impatiently. 

«  Ah,  the  result  ;  to  tell  you  the  honest  truth,  the 
circumstance  slipped  out  of  my  mind.  Well,  don't  look 
so  disconsolately,  I  ha\e  spoken  for  him  to  Lord  Mar- 
miton,  and  I  will  write  to  Jack  Nevers,  to  find  out  where 
he  is  ;  and  I  will  send  him  money." 

<*  You  must  do  it  with  delicacy.  Woodville  will  nev- 
er forget  himself,  however  he  may  have  been  furgot- 
ten." 

"  Oh  !  do  not  think  he  would  be  so  ridiculous  as  t» 
refuse  assistance,  he  has  been  in  such  distress ;  his  wife 
takes  in  plain  work  ;  he  skulks  about,  in  dread  of  being 
arretted  ;  and  he  is  60  altered  Jack  says,  one  should  not 
know  him." 


tAlSIXORE.  lir 

"  Ishmild*^  cried  Altamonf,  now  recollecting  the 
person  lie  had  past,  who  so  sti'oni^ly  resembled  liim  ;  and 
shuddei'ini?  at  the  involuntary  impression  he  had  receiv- 
ed on  the  iieath. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Altamont?  you  look  in  des- 
pair." 

"  Nothing;  but  I  would  have  given  any  thing  I 
possess,  to  have  had  this  information  sooner." 

"  Well,  well;  I  will  write  to  Nevers  immediately;" 
and  this  time  he  kept  his  word  j  whilst  Altamont  too  much 
interested  for  his  unfortunjite  friend,  to  trust  again  ta 
ValKancy's  memory,  sat  by  him  till  the  letter  was  sealed 
and  dispatclied  to  the  post. 

In  performing  his  task,  Valiancy  mentioned  Nevers 
as  one  of  Woodvilkvs  early  friends,  who  had  since  dropt 
his  acquaintance,  because  he  could  not  relieve  his  dis- 
tress, and  feared  to  wound  his  delicacy  ;  in  reality,  be- 
cause he  was  too  indolent  to  make  exertions  in  his  be- 
half i  and  too  proud,  or  ratlier  perhaps,  too  mean,  to 
sanction  any  claim  of  intimacy,  from  one  who  could  no 
longer  support  the  appearance  o{  vi  gentleman. 

Altamont  was  indignant  at  the  description  of  such  a 
friend.  Had  he  consulted  Woodville  on  this  subject,  he 
might  perhaps  have  learnt,  that  from  the  associates  of 
his  prosperity,  an  unfortunate  man  seldom  experiences 
so  great  a  kindness  as  neglect ;  that  calumny  too  com- 
monly visits  t4ie  house  of  poverty,  and  drags  back  to  in- 
vidious remembrance,  the  wretch  whom  sorrow  had  dis- 
missed to  uncommiserated  suffering,  and  unhonored  ob- 
livion. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ADELA  ROUVIGNY,  though  older  than  Cordelia^ 
possessed  a  more  youthful  aspect ;  her  form  was  suffici- 
ently light  for  an  Ariel,  her  compaction  glowed  with  the 
animation  of  a  Hebe,  her  soft  blue  eyes  were  radiant 


118  VALSINOEB. 

with  hope  and  joy.  The  buoyancy  of  her  spirits  gave 
a  volatile  rapidity  to  all  her  looks  and  motions  ;  yet  was 
every  glance  engaging,  and  every  movement  graceful. 
In  spite  of  the  adulation  which  had  been  breathed  into 
her  infant  car ;  in  spite  of  tiie  prejudices  instilled  by  her 
aunt  into  her  youtliful  mind  j  her  temper  was  sweet  and 
open,  lior  heart  aifectionate  and  grateful.  Some  faults 
she  certainly  retained  ;  but  charming  as  she  was,  it 
would  have  been  impossible  to  wish  her  to  aspire  to  per- 
fection. Vanity  had  not  destroyed  sympathy ;  and 
though  she  certainly  was  not  satisfied  without  the  hom- 
age of  the  otiier  sex,  she  could  have  wished  to  obtain  it, 
without  exciting  envy  in  her  own.  The  most  amiable 
of  coquettes ;  though  she  aimed  at  every  heart,  this  love 
of  empire  was  but  the  love  of  pleasure.  She  thought 
not  of  inflicting  pain,  but  she  was  eager  to  diiTuse  de- 
light ;  and  whether  she  was  with  the  splenetic  Quintin, 
or  the  elegant  Valiancy,  her  syren  voice  was  modulated 
hy  the  gentle  wish  to  please ;  and  her  seducing  smiles, 
animated  by  the  consciousness  of  her  own  attractions, 
bespoke  her  own  perrennial  gaiety,  and  irresistibly  com- 
pelled participation  m  her  enjoyment. 

For  the  first  five  minutes,  after  meeting  with  Cordelia, 
she  was  saddened  by  the  recollections  of  her  father,  and 
intermingled  tears  with  smiles;  but  the  cloud  was  tran- 
sient, she  recovered  her  vivacity  ;  and  having  mention- 
ed the  expedient  adopted  by  Sir  Frederic  Mowbray,  of 
travelling  under  tlie  name  of  Baron  Cromek,  she  rela- 
ted the  incident  which  had  introduced  her  to  Altamont 
and  Valiancy  ;  confessing  siie  had  herself  sportively  de- 
vised the  artifice  which  disengaged  them  from  tljeir  com- 
panions. Instead  of  having  gone  to  Dunkirk,  they  had 
taken  a  day's  journey  j  and  on  tiieir  return,  had  the 
satisfaction  to  find  the  travellers  had  followed  their  pre- 
tended route.  "  Imagine,"  added  she,  "  my  triumph 
on  having  thus  secured  the  pleasure  of  a  surprise^  be- 
sides keeping  within  the  pale  of  decorum ,  and  yet  these 
righteous  intentions  of  mine  were  ill  recompensed  j  for, 
in  our  little  excursion  some  malignant  genius  visited  me 
with  tlje  fever,  which  so  long  detained  me  from  dear 
England." 


YAX5IN0RE.  119 

Cordelia,  in  her  turn,  related  with  what  interest 
Valiancy  had  contemplated  her  picture. 

*'  And  pray  what  do  you  think  of  Valiancy  ?" 

Cordelia  was  liberal  in  his  praise,  yet  professed  to 
Jiave  seeji  little  of  liim. 

*«   tVnd  what  do  you  say  to  Altamont  ?'* 

*'  He  is  now  here,  and  was,  you  know,  my  first  pre- 
ceptor." 

*♦  He  is  now  liere !"  echoed  Adola,  adjusting  the 
glosf  y  ringlets  that  waved  round  her  neck,  »»  he  is  now 
lieie,  you  say;  well,  1  Juive  not  yet  determined  which 
•of  tlieni  siiali  be  my  cavalier." 

Whether  the  information  slie  had  received,  accelera- 
ted the  operations  of  the  toilette ^  or  whetlier  she  at 
length  recollectx^d,  how  improper  it  was  for  her  chuperon 
Mrs.  liivers,  to  remain  so  lung  absent  j  certain  it  is, 
she  fniished  her  dirss  with  great  dispatcli,  and  immedi- 
;ate]y  proposed  returning  to  tiie  drawing-i'oom.  Corde- 
lia, who  had  not  tlie  same  motives  for  diligence  j  and 
"who,  indeod,  trembled  at  the  Ihoughis  of  meeting  Alta- 
mont under  \wv  tA'.Ucr's  eye,  i)ersuadcd  her  to  proceed 
alone  J  vainly  hoping,  in  this  interval,  to  regain  com- 
jposure.  This  expectation  was  compleatly  fallacious ; 
for  tlie  longer  she  th(Might  of  her  precipitate  reti-eat,  the 
^ore  she  incirased  her  confusion  and  regiet.  Inno- 
(Cenee  does  not  always  inspire  courage ;  and  when  sho 
,at  length  quiitf  d  her  room,  it  was  with  the  sensations 
cof  a  culpiit.  In  the  mean  while  Adela  had  been  unde- 
ceived, and  re-introduced  to  Altamont  and  Valiancy; 
who  galhuitly  reproaciied  her  desertion,  whilst  she  sport- 
ively n  toiled  the  chaI•g<^  of  deception. 

**  I  l)elieve,  said  Mis.  De  Lille,  you  must  exchange 
forgiveness." 

«♦  For§:ivevcsn,'*  cried  Adela,  "  is  almost  as  hard  a 
word  as  ohedieice.'^ 

«  No,"  said   Valiancy,  "  wc  will  have  nothing  to 

remind  us  of  any  laws,  civil  or  canonical.     Wc  ackii'iw- 

ledge  no  authority  but  that  of  beauty,  and  no  court  but 

honor." 

♦*  Ob,  yes,  the  court  of  honor ;  and  pray  let  us  make 


1 


129  TAXSIJfOKE. 


it  something  in  tlic  style  of  chivalry.  I  think,  as  uo 
damsel  cvtr  entered  the  lists  heisclt",  I  must  i-emit  my 
cause  to  Mr.  Altamont ;  tor  though  lie  is  not  my  rela- 
tion, I  hope  lie  will  not  cease  to  be  my  friend." 

Altamont  bow:  d,  nor  was  Valiancy  displeased  with 
this  courtesy  to  his  own  intunate  friend  j  but  finding  he 
was  an  exclusive  object  of  attention,  he  redoubled  his 
efforts  to  extort  the  preference,  to  which  vanity  taught 
him  to  think  he  was  entitled.  "  I  know  not  how  it  iiap- 
pens,"'  said  he,  advancing  to  his  fair  companion,  but  I 
certainly  seem  to  have  been  long  acquainted  with  you, 
and  yet  I  am  long  lik-^ly  to  remain  ignorant  of  the  most 
interesting  part  of  your  character,  for  1  suspect  nobody 
will  U'W  ine  of  your  faults." 

*'  I'o  save  time  and  trouble,  you  may  set  down  to  my 
account,  as  many  as  to  other  people,  who  are  not  undci 
any  gi-eat  or  terrible  temjjtatiims." 

"  No,  that  is  infinitely  too  vague  and  unsatisfactory ; 
I  would  give  you  virtues  en  masse,  hut  not  a  single  fault 
gratis  ;  I  class  all  my  friends  by  their  defects  ;  not  one 
enters  my  heart,  without  some  such  voucher  of  sympa- 
thy." 

"  So  then,  you  w^onld  have  them  wear  a  black  niark^ 
to  prove  that  they  belong  to  you." 

"  Not  black,  I  can  be  satisfied  with  the  most  delicate 
tint,  be  it  of  the  sajyphire  or  the  amethijst;  *tis  enough 
iftheijnt  but  marks  the  gem.  As  to  my  female  fiiends, 
I  can  be  content  if  I  may  but  cypher  them  in  sympathetic 
ink,  which  to  no  eyes  but  mine  shall  be  visible." 

**  And  pray  is  Mr.  Altamont  in  this  mysterious  cy- 
pher ?" 

**  I  am  afraid,  if  it  was  not  for  his  romance,  and  en- 
thusiasm, he  would  be  incorrigihh." 

"  Oh  !  t.hen^  if  such  cpialities  w  ill  procure  admission, 
Cordelia  lierself  may  be  of  your  corps  (Telite  ?" 

«  Cordelia  perhaps  ;  but  foi*  yourself  (  shall  certainly 
exact  a  more  liberal  proportion  of  fallibility.  I  know 
you  labor  under  natural  disabilities  to  envy  and  malice; 
yet  1  don't  despair,  for  i  rt^all.^  think  you  have  a  strong 
propensity  to  mischief.  The  rattlesnake  has  lent  you  his 
most  destructive  property  I" 


VAI.SI.VOUF,,  12t 

*•  Ymu  ai'L'  loo  tantalizing  to  attribute  to  mo  tlic  pro- 
|irrties  I  most  uish  to  possess.  I  admire  cntliusiasts, 
and  you  see  (looking  towards  Altamont)  I  caimot  fas- 
cinate them.*'  Vallaiic}  was,  perhaps,  not  liattered  by 
this  attention  to  his  friend,  but  he  had  no  time  to  express 
displeasure.  , 

De  Lille,  who  had  been  playing  chess  with  Mi's.  Riv- 
ers, suddeidy  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  vexation,  "  by 
hearens,  here's  C\iia  Gladwin  '"     "  Welcome  to  Am- 
atonda,"  cried  Valiancy  ;  whilst  Altamont  flew  to  the 
lawn,  to  greet  his  ev«>r  ardent  and   affectionate  friend. 
Mi's.  Gladwin  approached  not  the  house  with  her  wonted 
complacency;  for,  having   accidentally  heard  of  Alta- 
moufs  arrival,  she  had  lost  no  time  in  travelling  froia^ 
Cinnberland,  to  aniu)unee  her  surprise  at  his  neglect,  in 
not  haAing  himself  communicated  the  important  intelli- 
gence.    He  had  brought  a  letter  from  bis  mother,  which 
siionld  have  apprized  her  of  this  circumstance  ;  but  which 
having  been  entrusted  to  Lord  Marmiton  to  be  franked, 
had  never  reached  the  place  of  its  destination.     The  cir- 
cumstance was  no  sooner  explained,  than  all  her  anger 
vanished  :  to  say  tlic  truth,  she  had  scarcely  seen  her 
hero,  and    contemplated   his  improvements,  when  she 
frankly  pronounced  his  abs(dution  ;  and  joined  the  party 
with  even  a  dcuible  portion  of  cheerfulness  and  ])leasure, 
'     De  Lille,  though  evidently  embarrassed,  received  her 
••■with  his  wonted  courtesy ;  atul  his  lady,  knowing  she 
had  always  a  home  at  the  Grange,  was  not  disturbed  by 
her  presence.     Ey  Mr.  Quintin  alone,  who  w«is  just  ar- 
rived with  SirFrederic  Mowbray,  was  she  i^eceived  with 
indifference ;  but  to  him  she  was  peculiarly  distasteful,  as 
she  seldom  listened  to  his  harangues,  and  had  no  rever- 
ence for  his  heraldry.     Far  different  was  the  reception 
-  she  met  with  from  Cordelia,  w  ho,  still  struggling  with 
:timi<lity,  was  happy  on  her  entrance  to  have  so  good  an 
^•excuse  for  not  noticing  Altamont;  and  it  was  also  some 
'^ consolation  to  shower  on  his  friend  the  kindnesses  she 
\Vas  fitrccd  to  withhold  from  himseHV    Sir  Frederic  now 
atlvanced,  and,  having  smoothed  his  brow  to  perleet 
composure,  addressed  hci  w  i(h  his  accustomed  ease,  and 

L 


122  YALSiiVOUE. 

almost  insensibly  enejrosstMl  her  conversation  ;  whilst 
AliHJnont,  atfrilmlini^  licr  late  precipitation  to  displea- 
sure, and  scein.!;^  in  her  jncscnt  estrangement  not  timid- 
ity, but  coldness  ;  far  from  attempting  to  divide  her  at- 
tentions, seemed  to  shun  all  opportunities  of  approaching 
her.  The  Baronet  was  not  slow  to  perceive  this  dis- 
tance j  and,  as  he  knew  Cordelia  to  be  incapable  of  ar- 
tilicej  imputed  their  mutual  shyness  to  some  concealed 
i-eseiitmcnt ;  his  own  hopes  were  raised  by  this  sugges- 
tion, ajul  as  he  watched  IIr  m  both  with  insidious  vigi- 
lance, he  had  a  malicious  satisfaction  in  anticipating  for 
his  despised  rival,  those  jealous  pangs  which  had  so  long 
tortured  his  own  selfish  bosom. 

in  the  meanwiiile,  Altamont  was  honorably  distin- 
guislied  by  Miss  Rouvigny,  who  appeared  willing  to 
transfer  to  him  the  righis  of  relationship.  It  was  im- 
possible that  any  man  should  be  insensible  to  the  atten- 
tions of  the  charming  Adela ;  he  certainly  wished  too, 
not  to  appear  ungrateful ;  and  Miss  liladwin,  who 
watched  them  both,  was  soon  persuaded  they  were  mu- 
tually enamoured.  Happily  her  thoughts  were  not  au- 
dibly expressed;  happily  too,  they  were  not  sjifFei-ed  by 
Mrs.  De  Lille,  who  was  so  much  delighted  with  the  un- 
looked  for  coalition  between  her  son  and  herneice,  that 
she  overiiowed  with  complacency  ;  and  was  suilieiently 
composed  and  harmonized  to  have  ])ractised  the  lessons, 
and  she  now  remembered  them,  of  the  mystical  abstract- 
ed Aleck. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

<<  PRAY  Aleck,"  said  good  Mrs.  Winifred,  half 
rising  from  her  easy  chair,  *'  why  flan't  you  talk  over 
matters  with  Miss  Celiii,  who  would  talk  to  you  agaiu 
in  your  own  way?"  .^■J-'' 

This  was  precisely  the  reason  why  Al&ck  did  not  dis- 
cuss the  subject  with  Miss  Celia  j  and  he  muttered,  she 
was  an  enthusiast. 


VALsrifoRE.  1:23 

••  1  am  sure,  rctunie({  Mrs.  Wihifrod,  "  she  is  a  wise 
Moiiiaii :  and  speaks  Just  like  u  book  !"' 

♦<  Yes,"  said  Alt^ck,  "  slio  is  fluent ;  but  she  is  a  lit- 
tle visionary,'^ 

\-  "  I  wish,  dear  Aleck,  she  knew  all  that  is  in  you. 
J5y  what  I  can  undoisiand,  you  arc  in  many  tilings  much 
oC  one  mind." 

-Alexander  Satchell  was  blessed  with  u  sedative  sweet- 
ness of  tempe!',  a  eonip.isecl  equanindty  of  ndnd,  thai 
notliini^'  Could  vnCAv,  oi-  resist ;  hut  at  this  indirect  com- 
parison between  him  and  Mis.  (iladwin,  his  spirit  rose, 
the  glowof  ambition  mounted  to  his  cheeks;  and  he  ex- 
claimed, **  he  had  lately  thought  of  a  new  modification 
of  his  ])rinciple  ;  and  such  as  lie  conceived  woidd  be  more 
useful  to  mankind.  He  liad  rellected,  t'.iat  to  excite  the 
Inr.uan  afiections  was  seldom  so  <!esirable  as  to  allay 
th(  »u  ;  and  he  was  convinced  he  had  now  discovered  the 
true  seci'ct  of  usefulness  and  and  felicity.  In  short,  he 
added,  he  should  in  future  study  to  produce  tranquility 
and  equanimity  in  his  fellow-creatures  :  and  leave  to 
buch  as  J/rs.  Gladrcin.  the  more  obvious,  hut  less  salu- 
tary, influence,  i»y  wliich  the  dormant  passions  could  be 
awakened  into  life.''  In  reality,  this  idea  had  been 
Uoating  in  his  mind  evei-  since  lie  had  Iieard  Cclia  assert, 
with  vebemence,  her  coji\  iction  that  thei*e  was  a  mutual 
sym])atliy  between  Altamont  and  Adela  ;  she  had  even 
protested  that  they  must  love  ;  shv?  would  defy  them  to 
help  it.  Touched  by  these  words,  and  offended  with 
any  thing  like  approximati(m  to  his  own  peculiar  science, 
Aleck  had  instantly  reformed  his  nomenclature,  and  li- 
mited his  own  mental  actions  to  a  province  in  which  she 
would  not  atiempt  to  |iartieipatc. 

Mrs.  Winifred  was  pleased  nith  the  modification, 
since  she  could  more  readily  comprehend  the  language 
in  which  it  was  expressed.  She  asked  if  his  mental 
agency  might  not  prevent  law-suits?  He  evaded  Ihe 
questicm  by  observing,  that  law-suits  were  uot generated 
by  the  affections.  <*  That's  true,  indeed,"  said  she, 
**  there's  nothing  so  good  in  them."  As  she  promulged 
this  opinion  she  looked  at  Aleck,  who  uttered  no  i-epro- 


124  VAISINORE* 

ving  sentence.  She  was  so  ploasrd,  and  so  proud  to  find 
she  could  converse  on  such  hig,li  nuitteis,  thai  slie  could 
not  but  feel  endeared  to  Ah  ck,  to  wliom  she  owed  ,  so 
new  and  delightlul  a  perception  ;  and  for  the  rest  of  tho 
day  she  thought  only  of  this  mental  agency,  and  its  won- 
der-working influence. 

Three  weeks  have  passed  since  the  arrival  of  Miss 
Rouvigny  ;  three  sliort  weeks  have  glided  away,  and 
Valiancy  still  remains  at  Bcaclidale  ;  so  much  jiiqued 
by  his  cousin's  indifflrence,  that  he  totally  forgets  his 
resolution  to  shun  her  society  ;  and  though  at  first 
merely  actuated  by  vanity,  by  degrees  comes  to  experi- 
ence the  restlessness,  if  not  the  tenderness  of  love. 
Altamont,  too,  still  lingers  near  Cordelia ;  but  he  no 
longer  enjoys  the  privileges  of  intimacy  and  confidence  ; 
l)e  no  longer  explains  to  her  the  pi'oblenis  of  Euclid,  or 
weeps  with  her  over  the  fragment  of  Cornelius  ;  he 
still  sees  her,  but  it  is  under  painful  lestraint ;  he  ap- 
proaches her  with  embarrassment,  and  she  meets  him 
with  equal  reserve  j  he  has  lost  the  hopes  that  impart- 
ed to  every  object  such  deliglit ;  he  is  sunk  to  the  vassal- 
age of  fear;  his  gallant,  generous  nature  is  attainted 
with  jealousy.  For  the  first  two  or  tiiree  days,  he  had 
imputed  her  estrangement  to  displeasuie,  at  the  too  ar- 
dent expression  of  feeling  which  escaped  him  in  the  pa- 
vilion. In  her  caution  and  circumspection,  he  saw  only 
a  marked  and  studied  discouiagcment.  He  was.prompt- 
cd  to  leave  Beachdale  ;  but  there  was  still  so  much  gen- 
tleness mixed  with  her  reserve,  that  he  could  not  resolve 
to  renounce  the  delight  of  seeing  lier  :  and  tlte  recol- 
lection of  tlie  sympathy  she  had  also  betrayed  for  Su- 
sanna, ci»nvinced  him  that  her  coldness  was  at  least  not 
produced  by  insensibility.  Cordelia  perceived  the  change 
in  his  deportinent,  and  even  detected  the  cause  j  !)ut  slie 
could  not  allude  to  the  past,  without  hazarding  the  fu- 
ture. She  observed  her  father's  eyes  watciiing  all  her 
movements,  and  to  elude  his  vigilance,  was  liaj»py  to 
attend  to  Sir  Frederic  Mowbray,  of  whose  passion  she, 
was  unconscious,  and  in  whose  society  she  experienced 
all  tlie  care  and   confidence   of  established   friendship^ 


VVLSINORE.  X'2h 

Slic  exerted  all  her  self-conimp.iul.  to  piv>o)iL  Do  Lille 
from  stispoctiiiii;  tiio  iiiiciv^t  s!ic  took  in  Allamont's  p<m- 
vcrsatioii ;  it  was  for  iiis  Sakc,  and  v,it!i  tin.'  Iiojic  of 
prolo!i!i;i!ii:;  Iiissojdtis-n  al  IJ.'achdale,  that  sl-r  snlMoittctl 
to  this  rostiaint.  aiul  tor  him  slie  could  ahno.si;  practise 
the  diiplicily  her  iuitufv'ahliorrcd.  (M'ttn,  when  vw^a- 
ged  in  a  ^anie  of  oiu'ss  villi  Quintin,  (tr  a  tetr -a-lct'.* 
with  Sit* Fredeiic,  she  was  tajitalizcd  hy  the  totuHot" 
Altaniont's  voice,  vlsen  cxcUided  tVoiu  liis  dis^iiv.i'sc. 
Soinetiines,  ituhvil,  sh.o  ii!>S('racte<l  h.ci  self  sutliiicatly  to 
collect  its  iin})(ui  :  whilst  others  hear.'',  Cordelia  eai^-er- 
Iv  listeiied,  efHiaity  ]U(i;i(l  to  reuiarlv  iiissiiperitnity  ovrr 
liis  companions;  and  to  liiul  t!:e  sym})ati!y  attested.  I  y 
the  assent  w!ue!i  her  heart  sporituntoiisly  dictated  to  ail 
his  opiniovi*-. 

In  a  few  day-^  how«>ver,  s'lc  perceived  a  still  p:reriter 
change  in  his  (ie]):»rt!nent :  lie  no  longer  discc\Tied  any 
ardor  to  enjoy  her  siK-icty  ;  whetlier  hc!'  fcLthcr  was 
j)resont  or  altsent,  he  had  the  same  iTSorved  aspect ;  iV 
he  addr(ssed  iier.  i*"  was  in  no  peculiar  aeccPit ;  ii'  liiey 
>vere  evei*  accidentally  left  alone,  they  liecaine  miiitinny 
embarrassed.  No  allusion  was  ever  made  to  the  pic- 
ceptor  ;  there  was  no  mention  if  the  manuscript.  As 
the  future  seemed  al);iiu!oned  to  clianee.  liir  past  was  con- 
signed to  oblivion;  noi-could  it  e5-c:^.])e  her  obserAaiiou'; 
tliat  Adela  lavished  on  liim  iier  nr.;si  f,attei  i:i,2;  atf.  tit  ions  ; 
i'"it  was  ])ossil)le.  she  made  Itim  her  C(Mnpanioii  in  tlioir 
walks,  and  she  neverseemed  satisfied  if  hc  listened  not 
to  her  conversation.  Cordelia  dreaded  to  ask  w  hich  was 
the  Caralici:  and  for  the  first  time  thought  an  heiress  a 
nmst  cnvialde  being.  "NViiilst  she  sullered  from  this  re- 
mote source,  she  was  little  aware  that  Altamoiit  consid- 
ered her  almost  as  the  proj)erty  of  anotiier.  A  allancy, 
vithhis  usual  carelessness,  had  casually  mentioned  wliat 
liis  mother  had  imparted  to  him  on  his  first  arrival  at 
Beachdale,  that  she  believed  Sir  Frederic  was  desperate- 
ly enamored  of  Cordelia  ;  and  that  whene\er  Lady 
^lowbray  died,  an  event  which  could  be  at  no  great  dis- 
tance, there  would  be  a  marriage.  Valiancy  repealed 
his  mother's  strict  injunctions  to  secrecy,  and  quietly 

La 


i'ZC,  Valsinoiik. 


<Usmisi^e;l  tt)C  subject  from  1ms  tlio!ip;]jts.  Altainont  \vas 
j<t  Hrst  inciv;]iil.)i:s  ;  biit  wlien  Ik* obsoi'vcd  Sir  I' i-ci'cm'- 
ic's  as5ji<!iiiti(\s,  and  tl;f  f.icility  vvitli  Vvlucli  she  adi-iittcd 
th.'iii }  Avlicn  liLM-ccullccUd  (hat  all  licr  irscrvo,  or  ois- 
ploasii!';\  or  eiuhai-rassnuMtt,  could  bo  tracfd  tVoiu  the 
day  oriiis  rctiii-n  to  Bv-aehdalo  ;  hislaitli  was  staj^'i^cr- 
cd,  his  heart  seemed  to  have  pai'tcd  iV<»;!i  Itope.  Corde- 
lia aj)pearcd  no  longer  the  fawltlcss  beinp*  he  had  wor- 
s!»ipped.  yet  was  she  perhajjs  iunocrnt  of  the  onj^agc-  j 
ment  \\hich  bad  beci!  formed  with  herfatlicr;  she  was  I 
[jerhaj'S  lucrcly  the  (/hjcct  of  attaehir.ent.  But  why  ex- 
tend to  him  siicii  5:miK  s  o("encoiira.a,'ement  ?  A,c;aiii.  was 
she  arrai.^ncd  andc oiitlen.iied  :  an(l  every  day  hv-  wished 
to  leave  the  hoifs:*,  yet  never  once  ret^-rettcd  tliat  he  had 
so  loii!^  been  its  inmate  ;  on  tiic  contrary,  be  cherished 
evci-y  dream  of  deiiarted  jileasmc,  and  found  in  fancy  a 
balm  for  the  wounds  it  had  indicted.  Mrs.  De  Lille  con- 
tinued in  her  happiest  mood.  Her  husband  was  pei'fect- 
ly  satisfied  witli  his  daui^htei-'s  conduct.  Sir  Frederic, 
not  so  easily  decciN  od,  still  Siiw  in  the  neglected  Alta- 
mont  bis  rival  ;  and,  discarding  delicacy  witli  probity, 
resolved  to  leave  no  arts  tMtemi»l(»yed,  to  produce  a  sep- 
aration between  those  conscious,  though  unacknowled- 
ged lovers. 

The  spoitive  gaiety  of  Adila  was  always  creating 
some  new  and  i.nexj)ectp<l  su!  j;'ct  of  amusenjcnt.  In 
her  company,  it  uas  scarcely  possible  to  be  tenacious  of 
gi'avity  or  ill-humor -,  even  Mr.  Quintin  was  compelled 
to  smile  at  the  follirs  of  tiic  age,  and  inseii.^ibly  forgot 
his  propensity  to  omimms  predictions.  Sometimes,  in- 
deed, his  fair  tyrant  \a  ent  farthei- ;  and  having  heard 
him  and  Mrs.  Gladwin  expatiate  on  the  grace  and  dig- 
nity, which,  d  I  ring  the  best  of  sill  administrations,  had 
been  exhibited  in  a  court  n^iu'iet,  she  insisted  that  they 
should  delight  their  friends  by  walking  one  together,  and, 
to  tVieir  own  astonislmient,  extorted  their  obedience. 
"  Oh,  sorceress,"  whispered  Valiancy, "  by  what  magical 
spell  have  you  brought  these  two  antipodal  spheres  in 
contact  ?"  "  By  a  sound  sweeter  than  the  music  of  the 
spheres — with  their  own  praise.     Observe  Mr.  Quin- 


VALSIXOUK.  127 

till,"  slie  added  :  ••    1   protest    he  shall   be  niv    Cava- 

'•  Observe  ^Trs.  Gln'Uvin,"  eefiirned  he;  '•  ah, she  is 
now  tii'(.aiii!ii,q,"  .  r  l.era:'- tired  C'A\)i.  Altaiisoi*'!-.-" 

Colia  was  l<»idsiii.i^  at  5  i'rl>c;'i',  \v»*.iosc  eyer^sli  faneicd 
to  be  rivetted  on  A 'ila  ;  ar.vl  s-.  f'.U  ^/as  she  of  this  idea, 
that  at  the  close  (4"  V  e.  luiiiiiot,  ^!ie,  wr-.s  be.;-i-iniTi.^*  it  a- 
i^aiii  willi  •rree.^  c  t.ikis'H'o  :  'i!:t  was  st(>j)t  )v  Qidntiii, 
who  e\chii'iied,  i!f  ',  they  we?-"  nMeiicored. 

"  Yes,  in  h-ed,  b  t  you  are."  cei<>'l  Adela ;  "  since 
that  hhss(  d  a/^e  eaniiot  ret^.rn,  you  shall  at  least  give 
us  asi'cond  irpresentati-n." 

Q'lintin  turniri!:^  al)  uptly  from  his  partner,  said, 
•  She  knows  Mothini^' of  the  court,  poor  thiii,^\  I  do 
not  stipjxise  she  (  \("rR;uvthe  Louvre  d:  need  in  her  life. 
Do  yoti  thiiiU  siie  st' ps  like  a  countess?" 

'*  Xo,"  \\hispeiTd  \'alhincy,  "  but  very  like  a  nneen 
at  chess,  when  she  s'vej.s,  wiih,  a  single  move,  feoui 
one  corner  of  the  h)r\rd  to  the  other." 

Soiui  times  V.'itia  eMe;aj2;e<i  in  an  ar^'inient  with  Quin- 
,  tin  on  the  rights  an«i  wronps  (»f  W(»?iien.  till  lie  was  al- 
jv.osi  anqry  ;  and  then  soothed  hiii.  into  j^'ood  humor  by 
playfidly  repi  atin;^  lis  penii^rec.  (hi  those  occasionsit 
was  ns^fal  f'>r  Valiancy  to  assert  tie  ])i  in  Ji;ative  of  his 
sex,  whilst  AltatiKitn  ajid  '6iv  r'rederlc  alfected  to  re- 
main n  Miter,  '^i'lie  M"st energetic  disputant  was  Celia 
Gladwin,  who  alwa;,  s  claihied  fur  her  sex  pre-ejiiinence 
in  truth,  fortittide,  and  constancy. 

**  Cf)nstanc\ .  l^iadaiu,"  cried  Quintin,  they  may 
have  by  dint  of  obstinacy  ;  Init  to  consistency.  ^  believe 
a  woiuan  seMoiw  has  any  pretensi'-ns.  (t'.onj|^b  1  confess 
I  wis'ii  vou  could  liave  proved  thcui  to  possess  discre- 
tion." ' 

*•  Oh.  my  dear  Sir."  cried  Adela,  **  that  is  so  com- 
mon-place a  qi'alit}  •" 

**  IMot  so.  fair  lady  ;  in  discretion  I  include  prudence, 
prftpriety,  and  secrecy  ',  now  in  my  opinion,  a  love-sick 
girl  is  the  only  feuiah^  capaMe  of  c^nct  aliment.'* 

•'  Mr.  Oiiintin,"  eriec.  C-lia,  rising  with  vchrnienee, 
'*  I  predict,  yon  will,  ei-e  many  days,  chans^c  your  opin- 


128  VALSlNORfe. 


ion.     What  would  you  sfiy,  Sir,  to /«'o  women  dividing' 
a  secret  between  tlicni  lor  lifteeu  veai's  ?*' 

"  Say  Madam  ?  That  tlicir  secret  woukl  not  admit  of 
a  subdivision  ;  it  must  have  been  some  partnership  in 
fraud — some  sisterly  com})aet  oFiniquity." 

•'*  No,  Sir,  n(! — tlie  prejudice  is  unwoilhy  of  you  :  I 
could  bring"  witnesses  i  Mr.  De  Lille  can  vouch."  Here, 
suddenly  checkiii.y;  herself,  she  added,  ••  Mr.  l)c  Liile 
e(udd  prove  to  you  that  Nvomcn  arc  capable  of  discre- 
tion." 

**  Very  true,  ISIadam  ;  he  has  an  eMan!])Ie  in  his  own 
wife." 

Mrs.  De  Lille  colored  at  this  unlucky  compliment, 
but  lier  oMu  consciousness  di(i  not  prevent  her  re- 
marking her  hus[>and's  embarrassment,  and  she  was 
revisited  liy  a  (juaim  of  snspieion.  Adela.  now  anxious 
to  close  the  coutmtiou,  called  up(ni  Aitanumt  to  vindi- 
cate the  charaelei-  of  iier  sex. 

"  1  am  not  sure,"  said  lie,  <•'  that  it  would  be  any 
compliment  to  them,  to  allow  that  they  equal  inen  in 
every  property  of  ])rudcnee.  They  have  so  few  iaults, 
that  they  are  perliaps  )iot  equally  circums])ect  in  con- 
cealiuii;  them.  Innocence  is  almost  too  ingenious  for 
discretion.  ^ 

*'  Througli  chr'istal  walls  the  slightest  moth  will  peep.*' 

"  Their  ehartei-ed  virtue  is  modesty  ;  and  if  to  that 
we  add  generosity,  tinith,  constancy,  candor,  and  benev- 
olence, 1  btlicN  c  \vc  shall  not  too  much  enlarge  their  pro- 
pert}." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  Mr.  Altamont,"  cried  Adela, 
<*  for  this  kiiul  interposition.  May  truth,  constancy, 
and  generosity  be  youi'  handmaids  as  long  as  you  are 
ready  to  protect  them." 

Altamont  and  Cordelia  exchanged  a  momentary  glance. 
Both  thought  of  Susanna,  but  the  latter  had  also  an  un- 
easy re(!ollection  of  the  word  cavalier.  Valiancy  was 
by  no  means  flattered ;  hut  Celia  was  enchanted;  she 
translated  this  half  sportive  sally  into  a  delicate  iiitimii- 


VALSliVORE.  129 

tion  of  attachment ;  and  almost  wondoi'cd  Herbert  could 
be  so  slow  to  perceive  the  lad v*s  partiality,  till  she  re- 
colh-etrd  that  timidity  ami  (list i-ust  were  always  insep- 
erahl  •  from  gcjiuine  love  ;  and  with  this  solution  she  was 
satisfied. 

Adcla  possessed  rare  talents  for  mimicry,  and  she 
would  often  imitate  the  tone  and  manners  of  some  of  the 
first  theatrical  |)erformers  witli  a  felicity  that  indicated 
talents  of  no  inferior  order  for  the  stage.  She  was  one 
evenin;^  cxliibitinj>:  in  the  comic  style,  in  the  pavilion, 
when  Mr.  Quintin  suddenly  made  his  appearance,  and 
with  reproving;-  {gravity  contemplated  her  i)orformancc; 
easily  comprelundin.a;  his  looks,  she  suddenly  approach- 
ed him,  ajKl  ^rivccfully  droppins;  on  the  knee,  *»  Most 
potent,  grave,  and  reveiend  signior, — "  but,  j)erceiv- 
iug  no  smile,  she  arose,  and  retreating  a  few  paces, 
*'  No,  I  will  not  be  a  beggar,  but  a  queen  :  you  shall 
confess  I  have  a  noble  ambition,  for  I  will  he  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  great  Gustavus;  and  you  shall  be  my  Lord 
AVhitelocke  ;  and  Valiancy,  Prince  Charhs  my  success- 
or :  Cordelia  is  the  Grace  of  my  court ;  and  all  the  rest 
of  you  are  English,  with  the  exception  of  Mrs.  Glad- 
win, who  must  condescend  to  be  my  lady  of  honor.  Will 
this  satisfy  my  guardian?  Will  he  suffer  me  to  take  a 
part  in  such  a  mask  as  this  ?" 

Mr.  (^uintin's  dark  heetled  brows  w'ei*e  instantly  un- 
bent ;  the  furrow  in  his  left  ciieek  was  softened  into  a 
sn^ilc  ;  and  he  again  fanciid  himself  in  the  atmosphere 
of  a  court. 

The  new  queen  unbinding  from  her  waist  a  blue  rib- 
bon, suspended  it  from  her  neck,  to  designate  Ciiristi- 
na's  favorite  order  of  the  Amaranth  ;*  aiKl  stealing  from 
f''>rdelia  a  sprig  of  myrtle,  she  seated  herself  at  the  up- 
]ir  end  of  the  room,  to  receive  the  compliments  of  liei* 
iilusirious  visitor.  Mr.  Quiniin  advanc^'d  with  much 
dignity,  and  bowed  thrice  to  the  earth  j  the  queen  i*e- 

*  The  order  of  the  Amaranth  was  instituted  Iiy  Christi- 
na, and  she  was  accustomed  to  wear  the  blue  ribbon,  which 
was  its  badg?  on  every  occasion. 


ifk  '>i^' 


1 


130  VALSIXOHE. 


turned  the  salutation  with  as  many  courtesies ;  and  hav- 
ing exchani^i'cl  a  f>'\v  court  plirasis,  in  which  the  anihas- 
sador's  i^iavity  almost  destroycil  the  composure  of  the 
spoctatoi's,  the  vouiiii,'  queen,  with  a  .a^racious  smile,  en- 
quired if  il;erc  was  no  EngTisIi  gentleman  that  would 
accept  from  hn-  iiands  thsd  hadge  of  hei*  tuvorite  order 
of  knightho!»d — the  bhie  ribbon  suspended  from  her  neck, 
and  the  sprig  of  myrtle  in  her  hair,  which  was  to  re- 
present that  paradasaic  liower,  the  Amai'antli  ? 

»'  Wiioevcr  accepts  this  [sledge,"  said  she,  must  be 
loyal  to  his  sovereign,  and  constant  to  liis  lady.  1  trust, 
for  tlie  honor  of  your  country,  My  Loi'd,  you  can  pre- 
sent some  one  not  unwortiiy  of  this  fair  tlistinction.'* 

**  I  trust,  Madam,"  said  Valiancy,  *•  you  will  not 
confei  such  a  mai*k  of  favor  on  a  foivigner." 

"  Oh'  prejudice  of  man,  disjlaimed  by  woman.  Why 
should  we  limit  virtue  to  our  latitude  ?  I  am  a  princess, 
it  is  true,  but  my  proudest  title  is  to  be  a  philanthropist." 

The  ambassador,  with  much  ceremony,  presented 
Altamont,  to  whom  the  queen  offered  her  pledge  of  con- 
stancy. Altamont  perceiving  that  Valiancy  was  uneasy, 
and,  unwilling  to  excite  in  him  even  a  momentary  jea- 
lousy, would  have  declined  the  honor,  on  the  plea  that 
he  was  destined  to  be  a  vagrant. 

**  The  more  reason,  then,  you  should  belong  to  this 
oi'der  of  kiiighthood  :  take  this  symbol  of  hope,  which 
is  the  fairest  flower  of  paradise." 

Altamont. — "  Lady,  I  renounce  the  hope." 

Q'lecn. — **  You  cannot ;  hope  is  winged,  and,  like 
Otho*s  falcon,  which  won  her  way  from  Elsinore  to  Cro- 
mer, shall  follow  you.  Take,  then,  this  pledge,  and 
be  happy." 

Altamont,  bowing  with  appropriate  gallantry,  kissed 
the  lady's  hand  on  receiving  the  blue  ribbon ;  and  with 
it  the  flower,  which  he  immediately  put  into  his  bosom. 

**  Given  like  a  Queen,"  oied  Quintin,  in  an  cxtacy 
of  admiration. 

Valiancy,  who  had  been  inipatient  at  this  sentimental 
trifling,  advancing,  demanded  admission  to  the  same 
order. 


VALSINORE.  13i 

*<  No,  Sir,"  cri(Ml  the  queen,  half  leptoaeli fully, 
•*  loyal  yoM  cannot  b(\.  for  you  are  (Icstiiuil  to  rrigu  : 
c«)nstant  you  \\ili  not  be,  since  y<ui  ar<'  sure  to  conquer. 
You  need  not  hojjc,  since  yow  are  already  rich  in  plea- 
sure ;  besides  all  this,  you  are  my  heir,  and  1  abdicate 
royalty  in  your  favor." 

It  was  w  ell  for  Mrs.  De  Lille  that  she  was  not  present ; 
Valiancy  bowed  and  retreated  witii  an  air  tliat  bespoke 
displesisure :  .iltaniont  was  embarrassed;  Mrs.  Glad- 
win could  wilii  difficidty  re])rcss  her  transports. 

**  L'])on  my  word,*'  cried  Qnintin,  '•  this  was  brave- 
ly acted." 

«  Yes,"  rejoined  Valiancy,  «»  to  the  vcrj-  life, — 'twas 
'  the  masque  of  nature." 

Sir  Frederic,  observing  with  infinite  satisfaction  his 
ill-disscmblcd  reseutment,  whis])ered  to  Citrdelia  some- 
thi»)g  to  which  she  was  incai)ablc  of  attending;  wliilst 
Adcla.  with  ati  air  of  unconscious  iniujcoice,  approach- 
ing Valiancy,  begged  he  would  now  act  his  i)art. 

*<  No,"  said  he,  "  when  I  act,  I  shall  be  afnarJ" 

*<  Well,  pronounce  any  vow— but  that  of  silence — '* 

He  was  again  pleased,  in  spite  of  himself;  but  fling- 
ing from  the  pavilion,  exclaimed,  «  Incomparable  co- 
quette!  I  will  leave  Beachdale." 

i\ltanu)nt  had  made  a  similar  decision ;  he  recalled 
the  last  words  «)f  Haller,  he  fancied  he  had  l)een  deceived 
in  Cordelia,  ami  proniis;>d  to  waste  himself  no  longer. 

When  the  party  assembled,  every  one  but  Adela  wore 
a  stnnbre  asj)ect. 

De.  liille  IukI  gone  out  early  on  one  of  his  secret  ex- 
jjcditions,  and  to  his  wife's  inexpirssible  chagrin,  was 
ju>t  leturn;  il.  Slie  had,  intleed,  no  reason  to  i»npute  his 
absence  to  any  unfortunate  accident,  since  he  had  eliar- 
,gcd  his  servant  to  inform  her,  he  might  spen  I  two  or 
three  days  fr<>m  home  ;  but  the  m\stei'y  recoiled  all  her 
former  suspici  »us,  and  whatever  efli'orts  she  made,  she 
fo  nid  it  ini[)(issiblf  to  appear  in  spirits.  She  sat,  there- 
fore in  mood\  silence,  almost  as  ahst^raeted  as  Al^ek, 
till  she  was  suddenly  roused  by  AKamont's  announcing 
hi9.iut€nUon  of  ijoing  to  London  on  the  next  day  5  whcni 


1J2  VALSIIVOKE. 

Valiancy  instantly  deciai'cd  his  rcsoliitionto  aceonipany 

llili). 

Similar  expressions  instantly  burst  from  Mrs.  Dc 
Lilk;  and  Mrs.  Gladwin  ;  "  you  will  Jiot  p^o,  'Valiancy^-* 
Avas  ctn^rgetically  parodied  by  ••  You  shall  not  ijo,  Alia- 

Sir  Frederic  looked  at  Cordelia,  and  she  clianajed 
countenance  ;  Cordfl»a  stole  a  glance  at  Adehi,  and  fan- 
cied her  bi'ow  was  clouded  with  care.  .  Mis.  De  Lille 
continued  her  entreaties ;  but  Altamont  was  firm,  and 
Valiancy  affected  to4)C  inflexible. 

*'   But  wlien  will  you  return  ?" 

Valiancy  pretended  to  have  a  predilection  to  visit  Ire- 
land. Altamont,  from  a  sudden  impulse,  professed  an 
inclination  to  go  to  Germany.  Cordelia's  eyes  bright- 
ened, for  she  hoped  he  meant  to  join  Haller,  who  had 
always  been  a  point  of  union  between  them.  !Mrs.  Glad- 
win considered  a  few  moments,  and  then  asked  if  De 
Lille  would  not  be  at  home  to-n)orrow ;  but,  as  if  sud- 
denly illumined  by  a  happy  presage,  added,  "  Yes,  I 
pledge  myself  for  his  return ;  I  have  his  promise,  and 
that  I  am  sure  he  holds  sacred  ;  at  any  rate,  delay  would 
be  dangerous.  Herbert  Altamont,  by  the  memory  of 
your  father,  I  conjure  you  to  stay  till  after  to-morrow  ; 
and  then,"  lor>king  significantly  at  Adela,  «  if  you 
choose  to  go,  I  shall  not  oppose  your  departure.  I  shall 
expect  all  of  you  who  are  young,  to  accompany  me  to- 
morrow mornina:,  on  a  little  expedition,  no  matter  whi- 
ther. Mr.  Valiancy,  I  sliaU  not  excuse  your  attendance.*? 

«  You  have  gi\  s^n  me  too  strong  a  motive  for  obedi- 
ence ;  a  mystery  possiisses  for  nie  a  thousand  attractions; 
if  I  was  ever  to  marry,  it  should  be  in  the  oriental  fash- 
ion, without  seeing  my  bride." 

"  Ah!  Mr.  Valiancy,  yoii  have  not  yet  leai'nt  what 
it  is  to  luve." 

«•  1  confess,  Madam,  1  am  rio  apt  scholai*  in  acqui- 
ring that  profound  science." 

"  jNo,"  resumed  she,  "  you  have  never  yet  seen  the 
woman  who  could  be  your  monitor." 

f<  No,  Madam,  1  am  persuaded  1  might  pass  through 


r 


VALSINOKB.  133 

all  (he  transmi.j^pations  of  Indur,  before  I  should  meet 
xv'itli  sucli  a  pr.nligv." 

Here  Mrs.  De  Lille,  with  some  alarm,  interrupted 
the  controversy  •,  and  as  Altamont  had  consented  to  de- 
fer his  journey  another  day,  she  pressed  Mrs.  Gladwin 
to  remain,  durini^that  interval,  under  her  root^ — a  pro- 
posal which  was  gratefully  accepted,  as  she  confessed 
she  wished  much  to  see  All*.  De  Lille,  previous^  to  the 
excursion. 

V  allancy,  sniilin,&^  at  this  idiomatic  expression  of  se- 
Ci'ecy..  insensihly  recovered  his  .^ood  humor  ;  though  he 
still  preserved  an  air  of  sullenness  towards  his  cousin, 
rwho  resumed  her  vivacity.  It  was  otherwise  with  Cor- 
delia i  she  was  still  >)ale ;  slie  again  saw  only  tiie  stem 
preceptor i  she  longed  to  remind  him  of  the  unfinished 
manuscript ;  not  that  she  was  now  interested  in  the  des- 
tiny of  Cornelius  or  Susanna:  she  could  think  but  of 
one  object,  and  to  liiin  She  had,  perhaps,  appeared  ca- 
pricious or  ungrateful.  Why  could  he  not  guess  her 
thoughts ;  why  v>-as  not  her  heart  transparent  ?  Yet 
slu"  wislud  nor  tiiis.  With  all  her  tendeiness  and  enthu- 
siasm she  would  not  for  the  world,  have  betrayed  her 
feelings  :  so  truly  did  delicacy  supply  the  place  of  pride, 
,:and  even  of  prudence,  to  Cordelia ! 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

IT  is  painful  to  relinquish  any  habits  confirmed  by 

time,  and   attachment,    but  particularly  painful  to  re- 

^n<Mince  the  commerce  of  the  heart,  to  suspend  the  liabit 

of  familiar  communication  and  unreserved   confuh-nce. 

/Cordelia  and  Adcia,  who  bad  been  long  accustouied,  on 

^•retiring  for  the  night,  to  spend  sometime  in  walking to- 

.g<tlir,  did  not  depart  from  this  established  usage,  though 

in  the  present  iustanee,  it  certainly  contributed  little  to 

their  enjoyoicjit.    The  conversation  was  languid  And 

M 


13i  VALSIVORE. 

constrained  ;  each  seemed  afraid  lest  she  should  gues 
tlic  other's  thoughts,  and  instead  of  canvassing  t!ie  inci- 
dents of  the  evening,  they  talked  of  Haller  and  of  Ger- 
many j  and  Adela  ^ave  some  interest! jig  anecdotes  of  a 
first  lover,  whom  she  confessed  to  have  made  some  im- 
pression on  her  heai't. 

Whilst  th<;y  were  thus  engaged,  Valiancy  ^as  also 
conferring  with  Altamont  on  subjects  of  a  very  different 
nature;  his  momentai-y  jealousy  had  yielded  to  his 
friend's  ingenuous  conduct,  and  at  the  same  time  he  re- 
collectetl,  not  without  compunction,  how  inattentive  he 
had  been  to  that  friend's  most  earnest  request,  having 
kept  for  tliree  days  an  unopened  letter,  from  the  person 
to  whom  he  had  written  for  information  respecting  tlie 
"Woodvilles.  Such  carelessness  was  almost  habitual  with 
Valiancy,  and  might  be  called  the  indolence  of  pr'ospe- 
rity.  Naturally  humane,  he  was  not  insensible  to  his 
error,  and,  in  the  present  instance,  reflected  on  it  with 
real  concern  and  regret. 

The  letter  contained  some  interesting  and  melancholy 
particulars  of  the  imfortunate  Woodville.  He  had  been 
arrested  about  a  month  ago,  and,  by  some  means  un- 
known to  Nevers,  was  enlarged.  Since  that  period  hii 
had,  by  means  equally  unknown,  obtained  the  situation 
of  captain's  clerk,  and  was  just  embarked  for  the  West 
Indies.  "  If  you  wish  to  see  him,"  added  Nevers,  you 
must  set  out  instantly  for  Spithead,  where  his  ship  is 
now  under  sailing  orders." 

**  And  I  will  see  him,"  cried  Altamont.  *<  You  can- 
not," said  Valiancy.  "  The  sliipsaih  d  yesterday.  Had 
I  opened  the  letter  soonor— — but  I  will  honestly  confess, 
I  forgot  to  K>ok  at  it. — Here's  some  information  respect- 
ing his  wife. — Nevers  gives  her  address.  Well,  we  will 
go  and  see  her :  we  could  have  done  him  no  good.  Here, 
take  the  letter,  .^Itamont ;  I  am  a  shabby  fellow,  but  I 
cannot  help  it.".  He  t.'ien  taliped  of  Adela's  coquetrj'^, 
protesting  he  would  n-it  return  without  Altamont,  to 
Beachdalc,  "  Not  that  you  can  find  much  amusement 
here,  I  confess  j  for  you  won't  laugh  at  Amatonda,  and 


TAXSJNORE.  185 

there's  ii©  pleasure  xvith  Cordelia,  she  is  so  cugrossed 
with  the  lifiroiK't. 

«  1  s/m// not  return,  Vnllancy,  I  lun  resolved. 

«  But  why  ?" 

**  Oil,  never  ask  why  j  tlierc  arc  a  thousand  reasons.*' 

«  Now,  Altaniont,  you  have  botrayiMUhc  seeret»  and 
my  mother  shall  not  vsee  ine  here  witliout  you " 

♦*  I  guess  your  surniise  :  itiswiiolly  unjiist.  Mrs, 
De  Lilie  has  uuilbrnily  treated  mc  with  respect  and  cor- 
diality.'* 

"  And  her  husband  ?" 

«  I  have  seen  little  of  him->-but  he  has  behaved  with 
perfect  propi'i(>ty." 

♦*  And  are  yoti  cui-ed  of  your  romantic  suspicions,  Al- 
tamont  ?  Do  you  now  attribute  to  him  those  mysicriuus 
remittances?" 

"  No,  no ;  on  that  subject  I  anj  satisfied." 

"  And  wliat  then  can  determine  you,  at  this  season^ 
to  leave  Beaehdale  ?" 

«  I  am  always  a  vagrant,"  (tliis  unlucky  word  recall- 
ed to  Valiancy's  mind  tiie  expr<>ssi<>iis  used  by  Christi- 
na, which  had  so  lately  offended  hiui — he  c<»lor»,  d,  and 
was  silent,)  whilst  Altamont  added,  *•  and  1  believe  I 
must  answer  in  Amatonda's  phrase,  *  tis  my  destiny.'  " 

«  (),  well,  1  seek  not  to  |)>nctrate  the  mystery,"  cri- 
ed Valiancy,  to  whom  it  now  oeeurred  that  his  friend 
had  discovered  in  Adela  some  dicisive  symptom  of  at- 
tachment ;  but  tliis  surmise  was  so  humiliating  to  van- 
ity, he  resisted  it  with  all  his  energy,  and  these  fricndji 
also  parted  with  mutual  reservation  and  coBceaUuent. 


Ms 


136  TALSINORE. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

WHEN  the  family  assembled  at  breakfast,  it  was  dis- 
tovered  that  Mrs.  Gladwin  was  absent,  having  taken  a 
walk  to  the  Grange,  to  prepare  for  the  projected  excur- 
sion. She  returned  not  till  it  was  nearly  twelve,  at 
which  hour  the  carriage  was  to  be  ready.  She  again 
enquired,  witli  earnestness,  for  De  Lille,  and  express- 
ed groat  vexation  at  his  prolonged  absence.  "  Howev- 
er," cried  she,  "  I  have  given  my  word,  I  sliall  not  re- 
tract. Come  what  may  come,  I  have  crossed  the  Rubi- 
con." 

Valiancy,  perceiving  her  uneasy  looks  and  restless 
perturbation,  forgetting  his  spleen  to  Adela,  entertain- 
ed her  with  a  ludicrous  picture  of  Amatonda's  distress. 
*♦  Pity  but  De  Lille  were  present  to  answer  her  with  cor- 
responding looks.  Could  you  not  imagine  them  both 
transformed  to  two  carrier  pigeons,  exchanging  pretty 
billets  ?    Pray  enquire  of  her — 

*«  Is  it  treason  ?  is  it  love  ? 

*f  Tell  me,  tell  me,  gentle  dove.'* 

«  Oh,"  cried  Adcla,  <*  'tis  neither  love  nor  treason  j 
'lis  simply  plotting  j  and  woe  to  you  if  the  ])lot  be  not 
discovered." 

"  Tlic  great  seal  of  England  should  not  console  me 
for  the  disappointment." 

During  the.se  lively  sallies,  CQ;rdelia,  standing  near 
the  bow  window,  had  hoped  she  would  exchange  a  few 
words  with  Altamont;  but  just  as  he  was  approaching 
her,  they  were  into-nipted  by  Sir  Frederic  Mowbray, 
who  had  invited  himself  to  the  party,  and  who,  under, 
the  mask  of  civility  to  the  one,  and  of  friendship  to  th«  j 
other,  was  always  harrassing  tiicir  movements. 

And  now  the  clock  strikes,  the  landau  is  at  the  door, 
and  Celia,  still  repining  at  Dc  Lille's  absence,  leads  the 


VALSINORE.  137 

way,  an(!  is  followed  by  her  wondering  companions. 

Tiioy  w(  re  no  sooner  seated  than  she  exchiimed,  "  Mr, 
Quintiii  sliould  have  been  present,  to  be  convinced  that  a 
wonian  was  capahlo  of  discretion  ;  but  I  will  not  antici- 
pate," added  sh«.i  i  •»  the  secret  shall  remain  to  the  last 
nioinent  i"  and  indeed  she  was  revolving  in  her  niiinl  in 
what  manner  to  give  the  most  theatrical  effect  to  her  in- 
tended discovery. 

<«  But,    dearest  Madam,'*  cried  Valiancy,  will  you 
not  favor  us  witlisome  ijiiiuKitiou  of  this  prodigious  mys- 
tery ?     Docs  no  one  share  the  burthen  witii  you  I" 
She  sliook  her  head. 

"  It  concerns  not  you,  Tallancy."  She  tlien  tlircw  a 
significant  look  on  Altamont  and  Adela,  and  i-elapsed 
into  her  reverie.  The  latter  had  her  accustomed  viva- 
city, and  as  all  the  rest  of  the  party  were  pensive  or  agi- 
tated, she  conversed  almost  solely  with  her  cousin. 

"  Really,"  said  he,  "  I  think  we  are  the  only  inter- 
locutors among  the  Dramatis  Persona;." 

«  And  pray,"  retorted  she,  "  do  you  assign  me  the 
place  of  a  mute  or  a  confidante  ?  thougli,  on  recollection, 
the  one  is  synonimous  with  the  other." 
**  1  make  you  the  heroine — the  quecnJ" 
Here  Celia.  roused  from  her  musing  fit,  exclaimed, 
*'  The  Ac?-o  of  the  piece  is  Herbert  Altamont,  and  here 
we  are,  at  this  spot  wc  shall  alight." 

«  What!  here,  Madam!  why,  wc  Iiave  come  but 
four  miles.  Is  tbis  to  be  the  scene  of  your  grand  denoue- 
ment? 

No  answer  was  returned,  but  the  carriage  stopped  3 
Sir  Frederic  assisted  Celia  to  alight,  who,  without  his 
aid,  must  have  fallen  to  the  ground,  from  extreme  per- 
turbation. No  pot^tas^ter  hammeiing  for  a  rliyme,  no 
parliamentary  probationer  conning  a  maiden  speecli,  ever 
shewed  moi-o  perpU -xity  ;  mj  quadrUle-lffcing  dame  de- 
claring the  saiiH  prendre  vole ;  no  hardy  chess  j^ayer, 
redeeming  the  game  with  a  stale  mate,  ever  experienced 
moiT  agitation. 

They  alighted  at  tfic  gate  of  a  meadow,  which  led  to 
a  laim  house.    Celia,  preceding  the  groupe,  walked  ob 
MS 


.xVfe^-'if.'*-. 


138  VALSINORE. 

towards  a  plantation  of  firs,  on  tlie  brow  of  a  hill  rising 
in  front  of  tliis  rustic  mansion.     At  some  distance  ap-^ 
peared  a  bower,  to  vvhicli  she  directed  iier  steps:  it  was 
called  the  llieiiiiitaji^e,  and  was  suiroundcd  by  a  laurel  J 
hedge,  the  iitdly  and  the  ewe,  with  foiked  arms,  fe;iiard- * 
ing  the  entrance  •,  the  seats  were  cushioned  witli  moss 
and  ivy  ;  a  grey  stone  was  the  only  tabic,  and  on  it  was 
placed  a  clasped  book,  in  which  a  silver  pencil  was  en- 
closed.    This  lonely  spot  commanded  a  delightful  view 
of  the  forest  walks,  bordered  on  either  side  with  luxuri- 
ant corn  fields.     "  Here,"  cried  Celia,  *'  you  may  see 
tlie  whole  demesne."     Then  taking  up  the  book,  sh« 
requested  each  of  the  company  to  write  in  it  some  senti- 
ment suggested  by  the  occasion. 
Sir  Frederic  wrote, 

"  Happy  the  man  whose  m  ish  and  care 

"  A  few  paternal  acres  bound  ; 
*'  Content  to  breathe  his  native  air 

"  In  his  own  ground." 

Adela  being  next  challenged,  hastily  wrote, 

*'  I  seek  not  fortune,  bring  to  me 

"  The  mountain  nymph,  sweet  Liberty." 

Valiancy  followed,  with  Mrs.  Piozzi's  paraphrase  of 
the  distich  addressed  by  Johnson  to  Miss  Aston  : 

*'  Expressions  of  freedom  fall  oddly  from  you  ; 
*'  If  freedom  we  seek,  fair  enslaver,  adieu  !" 

Cordelia  expressed  her  secret  nnhappiness  in  a  qiro- 
tation  fiom  Mrs.  Grevillc's  ode  to  indifference  : 

*'  Nor  peace  nor  ease  the  heart  can  know,  \ 

"  That,  like  the  needle,  true,  I 

"  Turns  at  the  touch  of  joy  or  woe,  ] 
*•  But,  turning,  trembles  too." 

jUtamont;  meutaDy  alluding  to  Cordelia^  wrote^ 


VAX3IN0RE.  139 

,»       "  Where'er  I  roam,  whatever  realms  to  see, 
"  My  lieart,  unlravelled,  fondly  turns  to  thte." 

Celia  herself  added  a  line  from  Thomson,  and  taking 
the  book  under  her  arm.  ])roposed  they  should  proceed 
to  a  sumnjer-house,  at  some  little  distance,  originally 
erected  as  an  object  by  the  late  proi>rietor  of  the  estate 
before  them ;  and  which,  by  a  private  messenger  dis- 
patched in  the  early  part  ol"  the  morning,  she  had  pre- 
pared for  their  reception. 

Wo  opposition  was  made  to  the  proi)osal ;  and  leading 
them  down  the  gentle  declivity,  they  were  suddenly  pre- 
sented with  a  little  romantic  dell,  fenced  on  one  side 
with  the  light  clematis,  and  over-arched  by  birches,  al- 
ders, and  aspens  *,  on  the  other,  the  path  was  so  narrow, 
that  tlic  company  were  obliged  to  separate ;  and  it  for 
once  happened,  in  spite  of  all  Sir  Frederic's  precautions, 
that  Ahamont  was  next  to  Cordelia. 

For  a  few  moments  they  proceeded  in  total  silence,  but 
a  thistle  impeded  her  foot.  Altamont  stooped  down  to 
remove  it,  and  as  she  thanked  hiui  she  inadvertently 
called  him  Herbert.  In  an  instant  hope  and  confidence 
returned  to  his  heart,  as  Cordelia  exclaimed,  ♦*  You 
will  not,  surely,  go  to-morit)W  ?" 

"  Did  you  wish  me  to  stay,  particularly,  over  to- 
morrow ?" 

"  Only,  you  know,  we  never  finislied  the  legend  j 
and"  added  she,  hesitating,  "  it  was  agreed  we  should 
read  it  together." 

Altamont  was  beginning  to  answer  in  a  tone  of  de- 
light, when  the  i)ath  widened,  ami  Sir  Frederic  again 
hung  on  their  steps.  Yet  not  even  his  unwelcome  pre- 
sence could  now  divide  them  from  each  other ;  and  though 
their  conversation  was  suspended,  they  were  restored, 
they  scarcely  knew  how,  to  the  privileges  of  intimacy 
and  confidence  i  so  completely  indeed  wci-e  they  absorb- 
ed in  their  own  feelings,  that  they  heard  not  the  dashing 
of  a  cascade  at  some  distance,  till  Valiancy  expi-essed 
his  wish  to  explore  the  spot  from  whence  the  murmur 
issued.    Altamont  objected  to  tbis;  that  the  sight  of  a. 


140  yalsikoue. 

Mater-fall  was  commonly  less  picturesque  than  tlic 
sound.  Valiancy  advanced  a  fe\v  paces,  and  tlien  re- 
turnijig,  exclaimed,  *'  I  am  clearly  in  the  wrong :  the 
source  of  idl  these  sentimental  murnturs  was  nothing  but 
a  milK  and  njy  impertinent  curiosity  haschcated  mc  of 
the  pleasure  of  fancying  this  a  second  Tivoli.  Even 
Nature  owes  so  many  charms  to  fancy." 

He  was  here  interrupted  by  Cclia,  wlio,  having  ad- 
vanced before  her  company,  now  halted,  pointing  to  a 
small  octagonal  building,  which  was  to  be  the  bourn  of 
their  excursion.  It  was  simply  constructed  of  wood, 
but  had  been  so  ingenuously  painted  as  to  rei)rescnt  an- 
tiquated stone,  and  was  now  nearly  covered  with  laurel 
and  ivy,  which  ambitiously  asjiircd  together,  but  afford- 
ed a  snug  retreat  to  the  goldfinches  and  red-breasts,  who 
divided  their  verdant  premises  with  much  concord  and 
harmony. 

The  door  stood  open,  and  presented  to  view  a  wind- 
ing staircase,  by  which  the  company  ascended  to  the  on- 
ly apartment  the  house  contained.  It  was  lighted  from 
the  roof,  but  had  one  glass  window  reaching  from  the 
floor  to  the  ceiling,  and  opened  on  the  terrace  beneath, 
with  wijicli  it  oimmunieated  by  a  narrow  flight  of  steps^ 
V,  hich  were  intended  to  represent  the  time-worn  stairs 
of  a  ruinous  edifice.  The  walls  and  ceiling  were  paint- 
ed blue;  the  oak  floor  was  of  transparent  brightness  ;  a 
round  table,  covered  with  a  damask  cloth,  and  a  few 
low  sofas,  comprised  the  whole  of  the  furniture. 

This  building  had  been  called  Severn's  Folly,  but  was 
this  day  named  by  Celia,  Oberon's  shell  ;jand  that  none 
might  mistake  the  ap})ellation,  it  was  placarded  on  a 
screen  which  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  apartment. 

«  Do  none  but  fairies  own  this  house  ?"  said  Valian- 
cy, observing  no  traces  of  human  inhabitants. 

«  You  shall  not  find  you  need  attendance,"  replied 
Celia,  removing  the  damask  cloth,  under  which  a  choice 
collation  was  prepared  for  her  guests,  the  sight  of  which 
redoubled  their  good  humor  and  cordiality. 

«  Sui«ely,"  said  AUela,  <«  we  ai'e  indeed  served  by  the 
|airies,'^ 


TALSINORE.  141 

At  this  moment  a  gale  of  fragrance,  produced  by  pota 
of  mignionette  and  other  .  odorifci'oiis  flowers  filled  the 
room  ;  a)i(l  the  slow  vibrations  of  two  ^^)lian  hai'ps 
were  heard  intermingling,  in  solemn  accord,  their  wild 
mellilluous  harmonies. 

*♦  Chai'ining  fairies,"  cried  Valiancy,  "  I  pf^rceive 
the  place  is  fidl  of  spells  and  enchantmen(s.  Dear  Mrs. 
Gladwin,  can  you  tell  me  of  any  charm  by  which  to  es- 
cape the  danger  of  falling  in  love." 

"  You,"  replied  she,  ♦'  arc  in  no  danger ;  remember 
your  boast  of  yesterday." 

"  Oh,  trtist  not  a  boaster's  promises  j  I  assure  you  I 
am  in  great  jieril  at  this  moment." 

**  I  can  give  you  a  spell  against  temptation,"  said 
Adela  archly. 

**  Lady,  it  comes  susi)icionsly  from  ycni.  I  must  ex- 
pect treachery  in  the  gift." 

"  'Tis  no  gilt,  but  simply  a  piescription  which  is 
offered  gratis  :  keep  constantly  talking,  and  you  shall 
escape  the  fascinations  of  a  Cij'ce  or  a  Calypso." 

Valiancy  insta)itly  aiose,  and  with  his  wonted  grace, 
recited  Mereutio's  speech  of  Queen  Mab.  Celia  instant- 
ly challenged  Altamontto  ])ronounce  Hamlet's  soliloquy. 
Adela  herself  folh)wed  with  a  speech  from  the  Temp(  st, 
and  surpassed  them  both.  Sir  Frederic  was  invited  to 
take  a  pari,  but  he  was  too  mucli  occiijied  in  watching 
the  lovers,  to  feel  sufficiently  at  ease,  for  such  an  exer- 
cise of  memory,  ♦•  And  now,"  cried  Celia,  unclasping 
the  Album,  *»  it  is  my  turn  to  commence  orator."  She 
then  deliberately  read  every  sentence  inserted  in  the 
hook,  till  she  came  to  her  own,  which  was  a  line  altered 
from  Thomson ;  when  raising  her  voio,  rtnd  rivetting 
her  eyes  on  Altamont,  whilst  licr  cheeks  were  flushed, 
and  even  her  respiration  interrupted,  she  exclaimed  ; 

"  This  house,  this  nianor,  all,  my  fjiend,  are  thine.-'' 

Here  she  pauspd,  and  raising  her  hand,  added,  '<  Such 
is  the  oracle  of  destiny.  The  fair  demesne  you  have 
Been,  you  may  from  this  day  consider   as  your's.     You 


1*3  VALSINORE. 

are  now  in  possession  of  15001.  per  annum,  which  you 
will  hold  on  this  single  cotulition,  that  you  use  it  wisely." 
Here  she  stopt;  her  heart  too  full  for  utterance,  and 
burst  into  teai's.  Valiancy  stared,  Adela's  looli.s  be- 
spoke incredulity,  Sir  Fi-ederie  reddened  one  moment 
and  turned  pale  the  next,  when  he  beheld  Cordelia,  who 
had  been  seized  with  a  sensation  of  faintness,  and 
clinging  to  her  chair  could  with  difficulty  save  herself 
from  failing  on  the  floor.  Altamont  would  instajitly 
have  flowii  to  her  support ;  but  he  was  intercepted  by 
Sir  Frederic,  who  drew  her  to  tJie  window,  where  though 
he  hung  over  her  with  ill-dissembled  fondness,  he  al- 
most trembled  with  rage,  from  the  convicticm  that  ano- 
ther possessed  the  heart  of  the  woman  lie  adored. 
Cordelia  soon  recovering,  imputed  her  indisposition  to 
the  powerful  scents  diffused  through  the  apartment,  and 
hastily  disengaging  lierself  from  Sir  Fredeiic,  whose 
attentions  slic  for  the  first  time  observed  with  a  sort  of 
uneasy  distrust,  she  took  Adi  la's  arm,  and  with  her 
descended  to  the  terrace,  promising  in  a  few  minutes  to 
return  to  the  company. 

Celia,  who  had  at  first  been  disconcerted  by  this  in- 
teruption,  now  resuming  her  subject,  confirmed  her 
former  assurances,  of  Herbert's  good  fortune.  "  Tiiis," 
cried  slie,  «  is  the  secret  so  long  buried  in  my  bosom  ; 
a.  secret  never  revealed,  but  to  the  man  whose  assistance 
was  necessary  to  its  consummation.  This  estate,  of 
which  the  title-deeds  will  shortly  be  put  into  your  pos- 
session, is  purchased  foi"  you  by  a  friend,  to  etiable  you 
to  i)ui'sue  your  politicid  career  in  peace  and  glory.  And 
now  you  will  easily  understand  why  I  opposed  your  ta- 
king orders,  since  a  clergyman  is  not  eligible  to  Pai'lia- 
ment ;  you  will  easily  comprehend  why  1  urged  your 
being  sent  to  college,  and  employed  some  artifice  to  per- 
suade you  that  your  mother's  mysterious  friend  was  still 
watching  over  your  welfare. 

"  Through  the  same  medium,  I  exerted  my  influence 
to  induce  you  to  spend  some  yeais  in  sStiing other  coun- 
tries. It  was  my  ambition  to  render  you  in  every  res- 
pect proper  for  public  life.    This  was  my  experiment^ 


VAL9TN0RE.  14S 

nnd  it  has  succeeded ;  tltis  was  my  labor,  and  it  has 
prospered  ;  this  was  my  mystery,  and  it  ts  unlokU;d.  On 
the  most  interesting  day  oC  my  life,  1  can  |)r«uilly  say, 
Cornelia  had  not  more  cause  to  glory    in  the  Gracchi. 

,1  envy  not  a  mother." 

On  anotlier  occasion,  Valiancy  would  have  smiled  at 
the  extravaganee  of  this  compliment;  but  now  he 
\vas  spell-bound  in  amazement ;  and  C'elia,  the  only 
person,  perhaps,  to  whom  silence  gave  encouragement, 
proceeded,  »«  I  make  no  boast ;  it  is  all  owing  to  your 
own  goo{hiess.  that  my  e,\'p(>riment  hits  succeeded ;  yet 
suffer  me  to  say,  iiad  you  disappoiiiti'd  my  hopes,  you 
had  forfeited  youi'recom])ence.  The  estate  is  to  be  held 
in  trust,  for  tlie  good  of  mankind. 

*»  Mistake  me  not;  1  do  not  mean  to  exclude  you 
from  the  bh>ssings  of  domestic  life.  I  have  discovered 
the  woman  formed  to  harmonize  with  you,  to  soften  all 
your  cares,  and  recomi>ence  your  exertions.  I  can  trace 
the  progress  of  a  mutual  attachment,  and  I  can  venture 
to  say,  Pliny  and  11  ispulla  were  not  happier  than  you 
will  be." 

The  gratitude  and  surprise  of  Altamont  at  an  event 
so  strange  and  unexpected,  could  only  be  exceeded  by 
his  confusion  at  this  intimation  ;  biit  while  the  name  of 
Adelatrciubledon  her  lips,  she  was  suddenly  checked  by 
her  re-enti"ance  with  Cordelia.  Altamont  and  Valiancy 
had  equally  tlieir  cheeks  dushed  with  crimson,  the  one 
from  perplexity,  the  othei-  from  resentment ;  both  made 

.  an  involuntary  movement  to  the  door,  to  pn*vcnt  farther 
elucidation.  Sir  Frederic  relieved  their  embarrassment 
by  proposing  an  immediate  return  ;  and  as  ViUlancy's 
servant  had  l<i'oughta  horse,  Altamont  eagerly  mounted 

,  liinj,  to  avoid  any  further  allusions  to  a  subject  so  dis- 
tressing to  his  feelings.  The  rest  of  the  party  resumed 
tlieir  phiees  in  the  eairiagc,  but  all  woi'e  totally  chan- 
ged ;  allgairty  was  dimissed  ;  all  animation  had  van- 
ished. Adela  w  as  tlioiightful.  Valiancy  taciturn,  Cor- 
delia looked  ill,  ami  Sir  Frederic,  in  his  fear  of  exci- 
ting suspicion  or  displeasure,  constiained  himself  so 
much  that  he  apiiearcd  perfectly  frigid.     Celia   herself. 


1 


144  VAL31NORE. 


exliaustocl  by  her  efforts,  leaned  back,  scarcely  able  t« 
restrain  her  teais, and  now  and  then  dropping  a  pithy 
sentence  of  nmraliry ,  on  the  mutability  of  liunian  sensa- 
tions. *•  1  expected  it,"  cried  slie,  '•  to  have  been  a 
day  of  joy,  but  joy  is  overpowering.  1  wish  those  flow- 
ers liad  not  made  Cordelia  ill  i  1  have  been  saddenetl 
ever  since." 

On  reaching  Beachdale,  she  eagerly  enquired  for  Do 
Lille,  expressing  equal  wonder  and  disturbance  at  his 
absence.  Slie  then  joined  Altainont,  privatily  assuiing 
him,  that  to-morrow  he  should  have  better  evidence  than 
her  word,  to  convince  him  of  the  fact  she  had  announ- 
ced ;  for  the  present,  she  would  not  enter  on  particu- 
lars ;  besides,  she  wished  to  spend  an  hour  at  the  Grange. 
Slie  told  liim  in  confidence,  it  was  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Win- 
ifred ;  and  then  admonishing  him  to  entire  secrecy,  she 
resumed  a  njystcrious  air,  and  stealing  through  the 
park,  proceeed  by  a  circuitous  route  to  her  friend's  hab- 
itation. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HITHERTO  it  was  not  necessary  to  anticipate  the 
fcommunieatirm  which  was  to  immortalize  Celia  Glad- 
win's pre-eminence  in  discretion  ;  but  now  that  the  in- 
evitable moment  is  arrivetl,  it  will  be  proper  to  explain 
the  nature  of  that  mysterious  connexion,  whicli  had  so 
long  subsisted  between  her  and  the  kind-hearted  protes^ee. 
Her  acquaintance  with  this  artless  creature  had  com- 
menced in  her  youth,  and  during  the  annual  visits  she 
was  accustomed  to  pay  to  some  I'ich  relations  in  Mon- 
moutlishire ;  she  then  shewed  much  kindness  to  Winny, 
at  that  time  the  contented  wife  of  a  petty  farmer,  who 
occ.ipied  a  dairy  ;  but  soon  after  removing  with  hisj 
wife  to  another  county,  Celia  remained  for  many  yeai"^ 
in  igni  rauce  of  the  changes  which  had  occurred  in  he 
destiny. 


I 


VALSINOnE.  145 

Afferalon,^  interval  she  discovorcd  her  in  London, 
earning  ajnai'!(»nancc  ?)v  her  (!ail>  lahor,  and  steadily 
refusing  to  live  with  her  present  bushand  ;  who  having 
been  an  itinerant  player,  won  her  heart  by  a  talc  of  dis- 
tress ;  wasted  thesaviiigs  of  the  good  farmer's  industry; 
and.  finally,  kept  another  woman  in  open  infidelity. 
Indignant  at  this  last  outrage,  >V  inny  vowed  never  to 
live  with  him  again  ;  and,  with  Celia's  assistance,  pro- 
cured the  situation  of  housekeeper  in  a  gentleman's  fam- 
ily. Warm  with  gratitude  for  her  benefact'css,  she 
longed,  most  ardently,  to  make  her  some  acknowledg- 
ment ;  and,  by  dint  of  frugality  and  diligence,  saved 
enough  to  purc.iase  a  lottery  ticket.  The  transaction 
remained  a  pro fotm<l  secret,  till  she  discovered  that  it 
was  drawn  a  first  pi-ize  ;  when  almost  ovcrwhelmt d  with 
the  intelligence,  sho  tlew  to  her  good  M?ss  Celia.  and 
implored  her  acceptance  of  the  ticket;  deel.>ring  she 
wished  for  nothing  so  much  as  to  sec  her  living  like  a 
lady,  and  to  put  herself  under  lier  protection.  With 
equal  generosity  Celia  resisted  the  plea,  and  there  v  as  a 
lonr  contest  of  kindness  bttween  thein.  But  Wi- ny 
foinuled  lier  plea  on  a  point  of  English  law,  with  whjcli 
the  lower  orders  are  mil  acquainted  ;  that  a  woman  af- 
ter njai'riage  is  incapable  of  possessing  any  thing  inde- 
pendent of  her  husband,  and  protested  tliat  she  dreaded 
nt)thing  so  much  as  seeing  the  jn'oduce  of  iicrgood  for- 
tune extoi-ted  from  hei-  by  her  nov,  detested  protiigatc. 
Celia,  though  highly  applauding  tliose  heroic  sentiments, 
refused  to  enrich  herself  by  what  w(mld  be  termed  a  le- 
gal fraiu',  however  defensible  on  the  abstract  princi- 
ples of  equity  and  justice.  At  bngth  the  matter  "was 
Icompromised  between  them,  Celia  consenting  to  receive 
(lio  mon^y  to  vest  it  in  the  fiiuds  in  her  own  namf* :  to 
.transmit  to  Winny  an  annual  sum  sufficient  forbersup- 
Ipoit  ;  and  to  let  the  surplus  accumulate,  to  be  hereafter 
■^applied  to  sjme  gt  cat  object  of  patriotism  or  charity. 
"For  herself  she  siill  rigidly  rclus«"ii  to  accept  even  the 
^isn'Allist  ieco'.ii|)ence  ;  and  wa^-  inort  iiaj>py  in  thus  dis- 
'iclaii;;ing  fortune  th.^n  another  in  possessing  it  ;  she  des- 
ffpiseU  the  personal  risk   incurred  by   her  intrepidity  ; 

N 


Y 


146  V.VXSINOKE. 

she  gloried  in  the  possibility  of  b 'itig  persecuted  for  hav. 
ing  dared  to  evade  a  law  whicii,  whether  jiistly  or  not, 
she  conceived  to  be  among  thi'  rvrongs  of  ruoinen.  hhc 
was,  however,  soon  sensible  that  Winny's  appi-ehensiinis 
from  her  husband's  persecution  were  not  wiioUy  chimer- 
ical. He  had  disovered  her  retreat  i  and,  wondering 
at  the  comfort  in  which  she  lived,  insisted  on  living  witli 
her.  Celia,  at  length  by  bribes  induced  him  to  desist  ; 
but  from  that  period  siie  had  d'-emed  it  n -cessary  to  use 
more  precaution  for  her  cdd  friend's  security. 

The  occasion  was  most  inviting  to  her  h.ve  of  mystery, 
and  though  the  importunate  husband  was  now  go!ie  a- 
Lroad,  slie  suggested  her  dropping  his  name,  and  re- 
stricting herself  to  the  appellation  of  Mrs.  M  inn  if  red, 
by  which  alone  she  was  known  in  Mr.  Mapletoft's  fami- 
ly. Celia  having  been  long  persuaded  that  Altamont 
was  destined  to  perform  some  signal  service  fcr  the 
state,  conceived  it  impossible  that  the  estate  should  be 
more  wisely  bestowed,  and  proposed  to  her  protegee  the 
scheme  she  had  formed  for  the  benejSt  of  mankind. 

Winny,  who  had  never  ventured  to  consider  as  her 
own  property  what  she  owed  to  Celia's  friendship,  sub- 
mitted implicitly  to  her  decrees.  Yet  she  was  not  with- 
out some  repining  wishes  that  her  poor  dear  Aleck  might 
have  shared  with  Altamont,  but  this  condition  she  never 
ventured  to  suggest ;  for  such  was  her  gratitude  andi 
her  probity,  that  she  never  conceived  the  possibility  ol 
resuming  any  liglits  she  liad  once  surrendered  to  her  pro- 
tectress i  and  fondly  as  she  doated  on  Aleck,  she  pi'e- 
sumed  not,  even  for  his  sake,  to  make  any  claim  to  the 
prejudice  of  her  first  engagement.  Of  bonds  and  settle- 
ments she  knew  nothing,  and  to  legal  forms  had  an  in- 
vincible abhorrence  ;  but  to  her  upright  mind  a  word  was 
equally  binding  with  an  oath  ;  the  promise  that  had 
passed  her  lips  could  only  be  cancelled  by  injurious  treat- 
ment ;  yet  she  never  blazoned  this  religious  faith  witl 
an  imposing  name.  A  simple  Christian,  she  merely  as 
pired  to  jierform  her  duty  ;  and  the  point  of  honor  wm 
with  her  b ut  the  test  of  cousciencc. 


VALSINOBK.  It7 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


THE  predilection  which  Mrs.  (iladwin  h.id,  almost 
from  the  fii'st  glance,  conceived  lor  Do  Lille,  uni- 
ted to  tiie  necessity  oC  some  assistance  in  her  project, 
had  detennined  her  to  entrust  him  with  Winny's  desi(;n. 
He  was  Hattered  by  the  confidence  ;  gave  her  nnhoimde<l 
promises  !)f  service,  and  every  assurance  ol"  fidelity.  At 
her  eaiMK'st  request,  he  had  secretly  pnrcliased  the  es- 
tate conti.e:uoiJS  to  Valiancy  manor,  which  had  occasion- 
ed so  much  speculation  in  the  ncighbori)ood.  The  title 
deeds  weiv  at  present  in  his  possession,  but  were  final- 
ly to  be  transferred  to  the  intended  proprietor.  I'his 
confidence  was  not,  however,  mutual ;  and  the  incident 
of  the  letter,  which  excited  such  uneasiness  in  Mrs.  Do 
Lille,  nnsjht,  had  she  been  prone  to  suspicion,  have  in- 
spired in  Mrs.  Gladwin  eriual  distrust.  From  that  pe- 
riod, he  .had  been  less  cordial  .ind  ingetmous  :  he  never 
spoke  of  the  intended  donation  with  any  j^low  of  plea- 
sure i  and  he  was  always  su.gj^estinj^  some  reason  for 
prntraetiiii^  the  term  of  probation  and  concealment. 

On  the  return  of  Altamont  to  England,  however.  Ce- 
:lia  had  resolved  that  the  communication  should  take 
place;  but  De  Lille  alledged  that  there  was  still  some- 
thing wanting  to  make  the  conveyance  complete. 

In  their  last  conversation,  perceiving  her  somewlial 
irritated,  in  reality,  from  her  lively  conception  of  Alta- 
mnnt's  secret  contiiets  and  sufferings,  (the  pangs  of  hope- 
less love)  he  promised  in  another  week  to  be  I'cady  for 
thr  eclaii cissevient ;  yet  on  the  morning  after  he  had  giv- 
en hei"  this  assurance,  he  went  on  his  private  excarsion. 
It  was  not  her  intention  to  have  proceeded  without  his 
f  BOncurrenee  ;  but  having  been  thrown  off  her  guard  by 
''le  resolution  expressed  by  Altamont  to  leave  Beach- 
de,  and  proceed  to  Germany,  she  had  hastily  prccip- 
tated  her  promised  elucidation  ;  considering  that  though 
bhe  coidd  not  produce  the  title,  deeds,  she  could  pledge 

N  2 


148  VAiSINORE. 

lier  Avord  for  tlicii*  existence.  She  was  also  somewiiat 
piqued  by  De  Lille's  procrastination  ;  and  had  conse- 
quently the  less  repugnance  to  hazarding  this  step  with- 
out his  approbation.  Besides  all  this,  the  secret  she 
liad  so  long  preserved  with  such  ease,  was  no  longer 
supportable  with  i)atience.  From  the  moment  she  had 
approached  the  cixsis  of  diseovei-y,  slie  was  occupied 
with  her  theatrical  denouement. 

The  mystery  now  pressed  for  developement  with  an 
impetus  which  was  not  to  be  resisted  :  and  she  mistook 
the  impulse  of  her  own  ardent  nature,  for  some  secret 
inspiration  omnipotent  and  inevitable  as  destiny. 

On  approaching  the  Grange,  she  longed  for  sympa- 
thy and  reciprocation  wiih  her  good  old  Winny.  Sur- 
prise and  doubt  had  appeared  to  absorb  Altamont's  plea- 
sure ;  and  her  own  anticipated  raptures  were  strangely 
intercepted  ;  but  with  this  kitid-hearted  confidant,  she 
expected  to  taste  unalloyed  delight.  A  trifling  circum- 
stance again  thwarted  her  wishes  :  Winny  had  been  in- 
duced by  Aleck  to  ride  out  in  a  chaise  he  had  borrowed 
from  the  Abbey  ;  and  was  gone,  according  to  her  cha- 
ritable pi'actice,  to  visit  some  sick  person  at  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  village.  Celia  now  recollected  that  her 
friend  had  mentioned  in  the  morning  her  projected  excur-  j 
sion ;  commenting,  with  much  complacency,  on  the| 
readiness  Mr.  Quintin  had  shewn  to  oblige  Aleck  ;  but 
neither  the  informati(m  nor  the  reflf^ction  made  the  slight- 
est impressi(m  on  Celia's  mind  at  the  moment.  Now, 
however,  that  she  sighed  to  tlisburtlien  her  heart,  she 
would  gladly  have  followed  Winny  wherever  bhe  might 
be,  to  enter  on  hej;  purposed  explanation  ;  but  the  Ma- 
])htofts  were  out,  the  servants  knew  nothing  of  heir 
friend's  movements ;  there  was  no  remedy  but  patience,] 
and  of  that  vii'tue  she  was  the  least  capable.  For  the 
first  time  she  found  solitude  irksome  ;  and  in  this  inter- 
val of  suspense,  almost  regretted  that  she  had  been  so 
preci{)itate  with  her  disclosure. 

She  yearned  for  her  affectionate  Winny's  assurancfrj 
that  whatever  she  did  was  cojisistent  and  best ;  she,  for 
•nee,  distrusted  her  judgment,  and  doubted  of  her  owii 


VAI.9IN0R&.  149 

faith  ;  she  was  even  visited  by  some  compunctious  seru- 
J)l  s,  for  liaving  so  frankly  disposed  of  another's  pro- 
pi'rty  ;  and  dcterniiiuHi  to  stipulate  for  some  conditions 
in  favor  of  Ali  ck.  She  even  missed  the  secret,  over 
wliich  slie  had  so  long  brooded,  that  to  part  from  it  Would 
make  a  ehasin  in  existence. 

All  these  gloomy  reflections  were  occasioned  by  not 
finding  N>  inn}  at  home  ;  it  was  a  check  to  the  buoyan- 
cy of  expectation  ;  and  fancy,  for  once,  left  the  heart 
subdued  to  nature.  On  this  day  of  her  triumph, — this 
interesting  epoch  of  her  life,  she  wept;  and  after  hav- 
ing spent  some  hours  in  expectation  of  »  inny'.s  return, 
at  length  rejoined  the  circle  at  \  allavicy  House;  not  t<» 
enj  »y  society,  but  to  cheat  suspense  of  i'.s  lifigering  toi  • 
meats. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

*<  SHALL  I  advance  or  ivtreat,  Edw aid  ."'*  said  Al- 
tamont,  pcic;>iving  his  friend  seated  at  a  writing-desk, 
and  apparently  insensihle  to  his  approach. 

Valiancy  having  exhibited  unecjuivocal  symptoms  of 
iIl-liuu)or  during  dinner,  had  willidriwu  to  his  own 
apai-tment,  in  order,  as  he  said,  to  write  some  letters 
previous  to  his  journey.  Altamont  sus}>ecting  the  tiutt 
cause  of  his  estrangement,  determinesl.  by  a  fiank  tdair- 
cissement,  to  put  an  end  to  his  susp'-nso.  ''  Valiancy," 
repeated  lie,  »•  will  you  not  spare  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to 
a  tiiend  ?" 

*'  ()b»  Sir!  Mr.  AIta?nont,  1  perceive," — Tl.rewas 
no  playful  affectation  in  tliis  formality  ;  it  was  tlie  genu- 
ine cxpi'cssioH  of  strong  displeasure, 

**  Jlr.  Jiltamant !  what  a  i-ebuke  to  my  want  of  <leco- 
rum  !  I  supp(»st^  1  m.ist  in  future  semi  ip  a  servant  to 
amiounce  my  name,  witli  all  dite  puric'ilio." 

<*  In  future  every  thing  will  be  diliereut  from  what  it 
has  beeoj  tUero  is  a  revolution  since  ycaterdaij,    \Viiej;i 

N3 


150  VALSIXOliE. 

am  I  to  wisli  yon  jot  ?  for  among  other  changes  it  seems 
you  arc  likely  to  become  my  kinsnuin.*' 

*'  I  thought  to  find  you  in  a  uioic  serious  mood." 

"  I  was  never  moi-e  so  in  my  life.  It  is  you  that 
still  choose  to  be  something  for  wliich  I  really  can't  find 
H  name,— -ciMitious,  ciicumspect,  enveloped.  For  n)y 
i)art,  I  doii't  undejsland  obliquity, — or  shall  1  call 
it  delicacy  ;  and  really  should  not  scruple  asking  an  old 
friend  if  he  v.  as  going  to  bo  married  ?'* 

•<  And  do  you  sincerely  imagine  I  am  going  to  be 
married  ?'' 

"  And  why  not,  when  the  lady  smiles,  fortune  jumps 
iVoni  tlie  bag,  and  nothing  but  the  lawyer  and  the  bishop 
are  wanting  ?  I'll  tell  you  what,  Altamont,  among  other 
novelties,  do  got  a  new  habit  of  ingenuousness;  that 
cautious  air  of  mystery  is  necessary  to  the  man  who 
i^lrudges  at  a  profession  ;  and  for  that  very  reason  is  dis- 
claimed by  every  one  who  has  the  privilege  to  be  borti  a 
gentiemun.^' 

•<  1  hardly  know  how  to  answer  you.  Valiancy." 

*<  Oh,  you  might  know,  for  you  possess  all  the  eom- 
f)0«nd  tenses  in  perfection  ;  there  is  no  elaborate  phrase,, 
iio  elegant  artifice  in  laiiguage,  of  which  you  arc  not  a 
master." 

"  Come,  come,  this  is  all  the  captious  petulance  of  a 
dissatisfied,  restless  lover." 

"  Oh  no;  don't  imagine  1  am  a  lover.  I  like  a  coquette 
to  while  away  an  hour  with  |  I  don't  pretend  to  be  stupid 
or  invulnerable  as  a  beetle;  but  you  are  really  over  nice 
about  Miss  Rouvigny.  You  miglit  have  safely  entrust- 
ed your  miitual  attacliment ;  1  never  cared  for  her  enough 
^o  have  j)ut  her  in  competition  with  a  frientTs  welfare  j 
never  would  have  risked  for  her  my  integrity  ;  no,  no, 
though  1  may  have  laughed  at  romance,  I  hold  honor 
sacred  ,  though  1  might  never  affect  patriotism,  I  really 
did  believe  in  tiie  existence  of  honesty ;  and  could  so  far 
strt^tch  my  imagination  as  to  give  a  man  credit  for  une- 
quivocal sincerity." 

"  To  wliat  does  all  this  lead  ?" 

4*  01i>  merely  to  elucidate  a  point  in  <juestion^  WU* 


VAXSINOI«[C<  151 

ther  three  niontlis  after  you  have  been  presented  at  court, 
(you  and  your  bride.)  you  may  not  be  spoakina;  in  the 
House  i)j  piaisc  of  all  you  have  hitherto  abused  ?  Who 
knows  but  you  and  1  may  sit  on  opposite  sides,  at  once 
complimenting  and  controverting  each  other  ?" 

"  So  then,  if  I  should  really  have  this  accession  of 
fortune,  I  am  to  lose  your  friendshij)." 

"  If  yo7i  should.  Oh,  subtle  casuist !  Where  is  the 
contingency  ?  Your  fiiend  asstits  the  fact,  and  my  fa- 
ther-in-law, it  seems,  is  to  substantiate  the  assertion. 
The  estate  is  obvious  to  view,  and  still  you  express  a 
doubt  or  a  surmise.  Nay,  Altamont,  don'i  take  the  girl's 
word  that  she  loves  you,  but  exact  an  affidavit  proi>crly 
and  regularly  attested." 

♦•'  If  1  could  not  find  an  excuse  for  your  spleen,  I 
siiould  think  it  strange  you  did  not  rejoice  in  a  friend's 
prosperity." 

"But  where  is  there  a  friend,  Altamont  ?  A  friend 
should  be  an  equal ;  a  partner,  entei'ing  with  ardor, 
into  all  my  pursuits ;  sympathizing  in  my  tastes  and 
wishes ;  loving  even  my  faults,  and  respecting  my 
weakest  prejudices.  The  friend  should  be  my  otlu-r  s»if ; 
the  same  life's  blood  should  How  between  us.  Now,  Al- 
tamont, such  an  union  has  never  subsisted  between  us  j 
you  were  always  aiming  to  be  the  benefactor^  aiul  1  brook- 
ed from  you  admonitions  and  reproofs  1  could  not  have 
enduird  from  a  superior.'^ 

Hero  Valiancy  jmused.  Altamont  prrsorvcd  a  cold 
silence.  Irritated  by  a  forbearance  he  attributed  to  con- 
tempt. Valiancy  resumed,  »*  No  other  i)eing  should  have 
usurped  such  authority  ;  but  the  tutoring  seemed  to  sat- 
isfy your  punctilious  dignity,  and  I  tlierefore  franiJy 
submitted  to  the  yoke."  Valiancy  again  paused,  and 
was  again  unanswered.  "  Yet  thcugh  I  irpined  at  your 
i-eserve,  though  I  was  always  sensible  to  your  want  of 
sympathy,  1  would  not  have  believed  a  tale  to  your  pre- 
judice ;/"I  had  an  obstinate  faith  in  your  iiitegjity  ;  nor 
W(tuld  I  have  admitted,  on  any  authoritv  but  yoiu'  own* 
that  you  were  capable  of  disingenuous  artifice — seeking 
wUat  you  affected  to  disclaim,  aud  engrossing  the  verj 


152  ViXSINOKE. 

object  yon  professed  to  despise.  No  reasoning,  bo  rhet- 
oric, not  even  your  own  eluquence  should  have  persua- 
ded mp  to  believe  tbis." 

♦<  And  do  you  seriously  suppose  I  have  stooped  to 
such  duplicity  ? — tliat  I  have  sougiit  what  1  disclaimed, 
and  engrossed  tiie  object  1  professed  to  despise  ?'* 

Altainont  repeated  tbcse  words  with  delibei-ate  solem- 
nity ;  and  Valiancy,  siiocked  by  their  import,  in  his  turn 
was  silent. 

«  Tbese  are  strange  words  to  conne  from  the  associate 
of  one's  childhood,  and  include  a  cbai'ge  which,  allow 
me  to  say,  I  sbould  better  know  how  to  answer  to  any 
other  than  you." 

"  If  I  have  transgressed  decorum,  Sir,  I  am  ready  to 
make  the  reparation  due  to  the  feelings  of  a  gentleman.'* 

"  No,  Valiancy,  I  shall  not  accept  the  permissi'm  ta 
inflict  on  one  of  us  everlasting  remorse.  My  courage, 
at  least  is  not  suspected ;  and  I  warn  you  no  provocation 
on  your  part  shall  ever  make  me  attempt  tbe  life  of  one, 
I  have  so  long  considered  my  fiiend." 

Valiancy,  recollecting  that  bis  ow  n  life  had  been  pre- 
served by  tbe  person  be  bad  just  abused,  stood  abashed  ; 
conscious  of  bis  error,  but  not  noble  enough  to  avow  his. 
feelings. 

*'  I, can  account,  however,  for  your  petulance,"  resu- 
med AUamont,  »•  and  in  part  foigive  the  caprices  of  a. 
lover." 

«  I  disclaim  the  title!" 

"  'Tisin  vain  !  N-tliing  but  passion  could  have  so 
perverted  your  judgment,  tiiat  you  should  nt)t  discover 
you  were  yourself  the  real  object  of  Miss  Kouvigny's 
aifection." 

"  My  dear  Altamont.** 

"  1  wish  not  to  excite  your  presumption,  but  as  w« 
are  so  soon  to  part,  I  repf  at  sbe  loves  you." 

"  What  strange  vagary  is  this  ?  Does.she  not  treat 
me  with  indifference  and  caprice  ?" 

"  Because  sbe  distr':S^s  \oup  steadiness  ;,  ,sbe  love* 
you,  but  se^s  your  faults,  and  has  too  miieb  sense  an^ 
spirit  to  sufiw  inciiuatiott  to  prevail  over  judgtueat.** 


YALSINORE.  153 

"  And  I  like  lior  all  the  bettor  for  it ;  but  still,  my 
sapient  casuist,  how  should  you  see  throuu;ii  her  hnut?" 

"  Because  1  liad  an  interest  in  your  happin' ss,  I 
observed  tiiat  her  eyes  always  Ijiqhtened  at  youv  ap- 
proach ;  and  that  v  hocver  was  tlie  person  slie  address- 
ed, her  animation  was  increased  by  your  presence.*' 

*'  Blither  attentions  to  yourself, — was  that  mere  co- 
quetry ?" 

"  Yes.  a  coquetry  the  most  innocent.  Consider  the 
dispaiify  in  our  situation  ;  and  what  a  coxcomb  must 
that  n)an  be,  who  nnder  my  circumstances  could  impute 
her  politeness  to  interested  motives.  No,  Miss  Rouvig- 
ny  esteemed  me  tf)0  much,  to  suppose  I  was  capable  of 
such  egregious  vanity.  .  As  a  last  proof,  since  this  morn- 
ing her  behaviour  is  changed." 

"  But  may  not  that  be  from  the  delicacy  of  affec- 
tion ?" 

**  Valiancy,  you  arc  surely  in  love.  By  this  diffi- 
dence, this  distrust,  I  sec  you  are  really  capable  of  the 
passion;  now  I  heartily  forgive  your  injustice.'* 

**  forgiveness  is  not  enougli,  Altamont :  you  must 
forget  my  folly.*' 

<•  I  know  not  that  I  ought  to  do  so  ;  your  heart  prompt- 
ed some  bitter  things  i  you  intimated,  that  we  had  nev- 
er been  truly  fi  lends.'* 

((  Forget  tliose  foolish  words." 

**  You  will,  F  know,  rcmeujber  longer  than  T  shall  re- 
sent them  ;  yet,  one  thing  I  must  say,  should  I  ever  be 
thrown  on  adversity  I  could  Mot  now,  without  meanness, 
find  aneliorage  i»i  Valiancy." 

*«   Well,  but  you  shall  never  be  tiirown  on  adversity.'* 

*•  I  could  never  dismiss  the  recoll^etion.  that  you  re- 
membered our  ineqi!ality  :  never  persuade  myself  to 
challenge  your  services  :  never,  without  incurring  lity 
own  reproaches,  pernnt  you  to  tax  my  gratitude  with 
unrequited  obligation." 

On  rejoiniug  the  family,  they  found,  sitting  quietly  to- 
gether, Mrs.  Gladwin  and  Mrs.  l)e  Lille,  who  had  h-eu 
but  imj)erfectly  api):i'/Ad  of  the  incidents  of  the  morning, 
and  was  musing  on  her  husband's  absence  and  her  son's 


154  YALSINOIIE. 

"I 

intcjifled  departure.  Adela  wasi)layin;5to  Cordelia,  who 
stood  by  her  side  ovrrlookiiig  tlie  niiisie,  wlicn  Altamont 
enquired,  if  she  was  recovered  from  iier  indisposition. 
Sije  blushed,  from  the  C')nseions?i<;ss  tliat  her  disorder  had 
been  oecasi(jned  by  the  interest  she  took  in  ids  destiny. 
Ilei-  emotion  was  not  unobserved  ;  and  hope,  tiie  more 
dclieious  for  being  imperfect  and  restrained,  once  »norc 
st«de  to  ids  heart.  He  began  to  flatter  himsi  If,  that  all 
he  heard  respecting  Sir  Frederic  was  erroneous,  but 
however  tins  might  be,  neither  honor,  nor  delicacy  now, 
forbade  the  avowal  of  his  own  attachment. 

To  one  who  has  long  pined  in  c;)neealnient,  the  privi- 
lege of  disclosure  is  comparatively  the  termination  of 
his  sufferings.  Altamnnt  seemed  once  mtire  to  commu-, 
nicatc  with  Cordelia,  and,  by  a  single  glance,  to  divine 
all  she  would  have  said.  The  music  suspended  conver- 
sation, and  was  this  evening  aec?ptablc  even  to  Valian- 
cy, who  now  hoped  to  descry  in  Adela  some  marks  of  af- 
fection. •  She  happened  to  play  a  march,  to  which  Ilal- 
ler  was  partial  i  when  Altamont  rising  from  the  sofa,. 
in  which  he  liad  been  indulging  some  poetical  dreams  of 
happiness,  asked  if  she  still  wished  to  finish  the  manu- 
script of  Cornelius.  Her  assent  was  so  unequivocal, 
that  he  ventured  to  propose  their  resunung  it,  on  the 
morrow  morning,  in  the  pavilion.  As  she  had  no  time 
to  start  objections,  and  tacitly  cimfirmed  the  engage- 
ment, Altamont  had  now  sufficient  matter  for  specula- 
tion. 

On  this  important  morrow  too,  he  was  to  learn  from 
Mrs.  Gladwin  all  the  mysteries  of  his  fottunc  ;  but  this 
circumstance  at  the  moment  esca})ed  his  recollection  ;  he 
thought  only  of  being  permitted  to  dedicate  fortune, 
fame,  his  faculties,  his  feelings,  his  hopes,  his  joys,  hi» 
iifc.  and  all  tliat  ennobles  life,  to  Cordelia. 


VALSrXORE.  155 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


CORDELIA,  always  accustomed  to  be  punctual,  a 
haV.it  slic  dfi-ivcd  I'.aia  tliat  moral  s} upatliv,  wliich  is 
ever  pi'uiiipting  a  drlicato  coiisidcialion  for  the  ease 
and  comfort  of  others;  was  this  morniTig  ready  long  be- 
fore tiie  hoiir  api)ointed  for  the  int»Mvie\v  ;  but  fearing, 
as  woman  is  nat;ir.Uiy  born  to  fear,  slic  might  seem  too 
importunate  for  the  promised  plcasui'e,  she  remained  in  ' 
her  own  room,  till  w  ithin  a  fi  w  minutes  of  th<'  time  v  and 
then,  descending  to  the  ^garden,  glided  over  the  lawn 
without  once  glancing  towards  the  pavilion :  though 
sometimes  stopping  unconsciously,  with  the  persuasion 
that  she  heai'd  Aitamont's  step,  since  she  could  not  but 
believe  he  had  been  long  watching  her  approach.  To 
her  surprise,  however,  she  received  no  summons ;  she 
met  with  no  iiitcrruption  -,  she  slowly  returned  ;  and  with 
due  juocauticm,  deigned  to  look  towards  tlie  pavilion, 
which  she  instantly  perceived  to  be  empty.  Deeply  chag- 
rined, half  offended,  she  again  sauntered  towards  the 
paik,  but  beheld  not  the  olijict  of  her  pursuit ;  and  af- 
ter spending  some  time  in  these  fruitless  exp'^ctations, 
she  was  joined  by  Adela,  and  sorrowfully  relinquished 
the  engagement. 

The  summons  to  breakfast  was  much  earlier  than  usu- 
al. For  Adela  had  a  fancy  to  be  a  gleaner,  and  called 
herself  Phop lie  ;  whilst  Valiancy,  witli  much  pleasantry, 
supported  the  character  of  Tonclistone.  Cordelia  heard 
not  one  word  of  their  conversation,  till  she  saw  Alta- 
mont  enter  so  pale,  so  languid,  so  unusually  pensive, 
*hat  all  her  purposed  vengeance  was  suspended,  and 
wiien  he  approached,  she  addressed  him  iuAtduntarily  in 
a  low  voice  as  Herbert.  Both  rose  from  the  table  as 
soon  as  pussible,  and  se])arating  fiom  Valiancy  and 
Adela,  strolled  towards  the  shiubbery,  appearing  mu- 
tually to  shun  the  spot,  whicli  should  seem  to  remind 
them  of  thcii*  lapsed  engagement. 


156  ViX9IN0K£. 

"  If  time  could  but  return,"  cried  Altamont;  if  to- 
morro'v  coidd  be  like  josteriltiv — 'T>v;iS  uli  a  dieum. 
My  roinanric  iViend  invcsti^d  nw  with  a  visionary  j^ood. 
'T-'.vas  an  icj'-!)alace,  and  is  now  dissolved.  My  15001. 
a-year  is  eouipl.'tcly  dissipated;  y»t  1  rtpinc  not  at  the 
privation,  sine*'  it  reverts  to  a  man,  in  some  resj'vcta, 
iiearer  to  my  heart  than  any  relation  upi»n  eartli."  Cor- 
delia looked  her  surjirise.  **  This  is  no  time  for  oxpla- 
nation.  The  mpments  are  too  jH'ccious ;  periiaps  this 
may  be  my  last  hoMr  «f  happiness." 

**  Good  heavens !  what  ni ."lan  you  ?" 

«  Not  that  1  am  dying,"  rctnriied  he,  with  a  njflan- 
choly  smile.  "  I  may  long  consume  da^s  and  jcars, 
and  yet  survive  life  ;  for  wlicn  hope  is  gone,  tlie  Ir^art 
is  dead  forever;  yet»  Cordrlia.  I  siiall  never  lament 
having  missed  wealth  or  splt^ndor.  Tli«  re  is  hut  •  ne 
man  i  should  ever  envK}  and  that  man,  whatever  ids 
cares  or  privations,  in  -#4esert  or  a  prison,  i  shiudd 
deem  the  hap[>iest  upon^^^^h." 

Cortlelia  answered  notj^^it  there  was  in  his  voice  a  x 
tender  touching  8<deainfty  her  heart  tai.ght  her  to  in- 
terpret; yet  she  cast  down  her  eyes,  stiil  fluctuating 
between  liope  and  distrust ;  still  dreadiiig  to  hear,  what 
she  most  wished  to  believe. 

*'  If  such  a  being  exists,"  cried  Altamont,  my  fate  is 
indeed  decided  ;  and  whether  I  remain  in  tiiis  country  or  . 
seok  another,  t  must  oc  an  alien  from  hope  and  happi- 
ness every  wijere."      h 

Cordelia  now  looked  up  with  unaffected  perplt^xity ; 
but  before  she  could  pnicecd  to  juakc  tiie  enq-iiry,  widcli 
might  forever  liave  dispelled  from  his  uiind  t!»e  suspicion 
of  Sir  Fredi.  ric,  they  wei*e  interrupt,  d  by  De  Lill",  who, 
bowing  stiffly  to  Altamont,  and  smj'dni,  sarcastically  on 
his  daughter,  desired  her  to  look  in  the  study  for  his 
pocket  edition  of  Shakespeare  ;  and  long  b«fote  ^he 
could  execute  this  c.smnussion,  had  drawn  her  compan- 
ion to  another  part  of  tiu-  garden,  evidently  engag'-d  in 
a  C(  nvt  isation  of  too  serious  d,  east  to  warrant  intrusion. 

It  la  liroper  to  explain  ^\hy  Altamont  failed  in  iiis  ap- 
pointment,   ile  had  gained  the  pavilion,  as  Cordelia 


VAXSINORB.  lB)r 

divined,  long  be  Fore  tlie  hour  of  meeting ;  and  was 
standing  at  the  entrance,  wlicn  he  found  liis  arm  grasp- 
ed hy  Mrs.  Gladwin,  who,  begging  a  i'ew  niinutes  eon- 
versation,  led  liini  down  the  cliesnut  walk  towards  the 
village,  and  eagerly  entered  on  her  intended  explanati- 
on. She  was  never  gifted  witlirbrevity  ;  her  thoughts 
spread  into  so  many  ramifications ;  and  in  the  present 
instance,  she  was  so  often  impeded  by  sentiment,  that 
they  i-eachcd  the  end  of  the  avenue,  before  she  came  to 
Winny's  ticket.  Tiien  leaning  against  tiie  park  pales, 
which  were  just  opposite  to  tlic  Grange,  siie  pn^posed 
stepping  out,  to  ask  if  her  old  friend  was  returned.  Said 
and  done  with  her  was  the  operation  of  the  same  mo- 
ment; and  greatly  was  she  rejoiced  to  obs<rvc,  at  the 
window,  the  object  of  her  search,  who  eagerly  throwing 
up  the  sash,  besought  her  for  G«Hl's'sake  to  come  in  for 
two  moments. 

"  Worthy  creature,"  cried  Celia,  as  sbc  crossed  the 
threshhold  j  "  1  liave  pledgej^^  myself,  my  dear  Alta- 
1)10 tit,  that  you  fihall  provide  j&ir  Aleck," 

Th(v  were  met  at  the  door  J)y  Mrs.  Winifred,  whose 
countenance  hesj)oke  not  jcty.^but  perturbation  and  sad- 
ness. *♦  Ah!  dear,  dear  Miss*  Celia,  I  have  such  a 
tale  for  you !" 

«  You  may  speak  freely  before  Altamnnt.  He  knows 
all.     I  have  told  him  every  thing.'* 

<*  I  am  sorry  for  it.  It  was  not  my  fault ;  no,  nor 
poor  Aleck's  neither ;  he  meant  all  for  the  bpst.  But 
what  shall  I  say  to  this  good  Mr.  Altamont.  Oh  !  dear 
Miss  Celia,  you  will  never  forgive  me."  Thru  wring- 
ing her  hands,  she  sunk  back  in  her  easy  chair,  whilst 
both  Altamont  and  Mrs.  Gladwin  said  every  tiling  they 
could  suggest  to  give  her  encouragement.  At  length 
they  learnt,  that  she  had  yestor<lny  attended  Aleck  to 
Tisit  a  dying  man,  who  had  lodged  for  the  last  three 
weeks  in  the  farm  house  on  Cordelia's  favorite  hill ;  so 
celebrated  for  the  salubrity  of  its  situation,  Mr.  Framp- 
ton  having  heard  of  Aleck,  who  was  S'sppos*  d  to  pos- 
sess some  occult  art  in  tlse  cure  of  diseases,  expJrssed  a 
strong  Uesii'e  to  see  him.    Aleck  was  introduced^  and 

0 


VALSIXOKE. 

iiiimediately  became  stmngly  interested  in  liis  recovery, 
^jothing  is  so  mortify  mg  to  a  generous  mind,  as  to 
have  any  power  attriljuted  to  it  uliieii  it  does  not  pos- 
sess. AJeck's  iieart  was  touched  by  this  appeal  to  his 
kindness,  but  his  fancy  instantly  kindled  at  the  sugges- 
tion, and  with  his  accustomed  facility,  he  began  to  spc* 
culate  on  the  possibility  of  administering  relief.  Might 
not  the  malady  originate  in  some  diseased  affection  of 
th"  soul;  and  would  not  tlie  lungs  be  healed  with  the 
htai t  ?  Fraught  with  tiiis  idea,  he  repeated  his  visits 
xto  Mr.  Frampton,  thought  of  him  incessancly,  and  of- 
ten talked  of  him  to  Mrs.  W  inifred,  who  delighted  to 
find  that  he  had  at  length  an  object  intelligible  to  her  ap- 
prehension, and  proud  to  co-operato  in  so  good  a  w»rk, 
repeatedly  sent,  by  his  hands,  jellies  and  conserves  to 
the  afflicted  patient.  Mr.  Frampton  now  lieard,  in  his 
turn,  of  Mrs.  Winifred,  and  naturally  expressed  a  de- 
sire to  see  her.  Ah  ck,  who  accounted  her  a  wondeix)us 
Ijeachy  and  simply  be'\  ved  her  recipes  availed  beyond 
the  doctor's  skill,  pressed  her  to  accompany  him ;  and 
to  obviate  her  only  objections  respecting  distance,  pro- 
cured a  one-horse  chaise  from  Mr.  Quintin  for  her  ac- 
commodation. 

Gladly  did  Winny  alight  from  the  carriage,  contem- 
plating, with  maternal  complacency,  her  benevolent 
Aleck ;  bui  she  was  not  a  little  shocked  to  learn  that 
Mr.  Frampton  was  materially  worse.  The  curate, 
Mr.  Bb'idy  came  down  stairs  to  meet  her,  and  by  hinn 
she  was  ughered  into  the  sick  chamber.  The  fii'st  ob- 
ject slie  beheld  was  a  couch,  on  which  the  sick  man  was 
reclining ;  beside  liim  sat  a  person  writing  from  his  die- 
tation:  his  hostess  followed  Winifred,  making  many 
apologies  for  the  littered  apartment. 

<*  Make  no  excuso»,  my  good  friend,"  said  Winny -J 
K  we  m\jst  ail  bear  with  one  another." 

,  At  the  sound  of  her  voice  the  patient,  raising  his 
'4iead,  exclaimed,  **  it  is  my  wife!"  and  Winny,  with 
a  piercing  shriek,  discovered  her  husband,  of  whose 
death  Mrs.  Gladwin  had,  as  she  imagined,  received  dei* 
^sive  evidence.    The  recognition  was  instantly  made; 


VALSINORB.  159 

and  the  stinposcd  Fniniptou  said  he  should  die  in  ])eacc 
if  he  nii,e;ht  but  obtain  hiM-  f»ri;ivt'iiess.  "  And  llicn,*' 
said  Mrs.  WinilVed,  "  he  hioked  so  teriihiy,  and  spoke 
so  pitifitlly,  that  (liough  1  never  believed  I  shoidd  coasc 
to  hate  him,  I  could  not  help  being  sorry  to  see  hiui  suf- 
fer. And  then  he  asked  nie  if  i  was  not  eni'iched  by  a 
lottery  ticket ;  and  as  1  cuuld  not  tell  a  lie.  I  answered 
nothinj^.  And  then  he  said,  *  I  know  it  is  so.'  And 
he  desired  the  man  who  was  writing,  to  shew  nic  a  let- 
ter he  had  received  without  a  name,  which  gave  him  the 
account.  And  then  he  said,  *  You  did  not  well  to  de- 
ceive me  so  long.  I  speak  not  for  my  own  sakd  but 
yours.  I  have  a  nephew  who  would  not  let  me  want  for 
any  tiling.'  And  just  then  who  siiould  come  in  but  your 
friend,  Mr.  De  Lille,  who  turned  up  the  whites  of  his 
eyes  at  seeing  me,  and  could  scarcely  believe  I  was  his 
unck*s  tvife.^' 

«  His  uncle's  wife !"  exclaimed  Celia,  "  that  is  iiu- 
possible !" 

**  But  indeed,  for  all  that,  'tis  true  ;  there's  the  pa- 
rish register  to  prove  it.  Mr.  De  Lille's  fatlier  was  my 
husband's  own  brother." 

"  But  how  could  Loyle  be  De  Lille  ?" 

"  Oh,  'twas  called  Loyle,  but  it  should  have  heen 
Lisle,  and  that  he  changed  it  to  Lille ;  for  what  cause 
he  knows  best :  but  certain  it  is  he  was  my  husband's 
nephew ;  and  the  man  in  black  who  was  writing  so  fast, 
shewed  me  the  copy  of  a  bond  he  had  given  him  long 
ago,  to  take  to  himself  all  the  property  he  either  had.  or 
should  come  to  have,  in  the  world  :  and  my  husband  said 
lie  was  glad  I  had  never  been  found  out,  for  that  then 
tliat  deed  would  have  been  put  in  force  against  me."  She 
tlien  ])roceeded  to  relate,  that,  being  ov'rpowered  with 
the  discovery,  she  was  conveyed  to  an  ad  joining  apai't' 
ment,  where  De  Lille  joined  her,  protesting  his  concern, 
and  declaring  he  was  not  aware  who  she  was.  Here 
Celia  shook  her  head,  with  strong  indications  of  incre- 
didity. 

Mrs.  Winifred  then  briefly  concluded  her  narrative  : 
the  surprise  occasioned  by  her  presence  appeai-ed  to  have 

02 


16§  VALSINORE. 

brought  on  a  violent  paroxysm,  in  wliich  the  patient 
breathed  his  last.  She  was  again  I'enioved  to  another 
room  where  De  Lille  paid  her  most  assiduous  attention, 
and  repeatedly  assured  her  of  his  friendshi]) ;  offered  to 
concur  in  any  scheme  for  Aleck's  estahlishment ;  and 
finally  bi'ought  her  home  at  a  late  hour,  with  as  much 
respect  as  if  she  had  been  a  queen. 

«  But  now,"  cried  she,  "  what  shall  be  done  for 
god'i^^r.  Altamont?  for  you  know  the  law  spares  no- 
thing,^ and  1  shall  only  have  my  own  dower;  for  Mr. 
Bland  and  the  man  in  black,  both  said  Mr.  De  Lille 
was  my  husband's  natural  heir ;  and  you  know  he  has 
every  penny  in  his  possession." 

"  Surely,"  cried  Celia,  "  Jaspar  De  Lille  will  not 
be  so  base  as  to  take  advantage  of  a  crooked  turn  in  the 
law  ?  What !  can  you  believe  him  capable  of  commit- 
ting an  act  of  whicli  a  felon  might  be  ashamed  j — of  abu- 
sing trust  and  betraying  confidence  ?" 

♦<  But  he  says,  dear  Miss  Celia,  that  if  he  should 
decline  the  property,  the  next  heir  would  take  it ;  so 
there's  no  end  of  vexation.  But  you  shall  hear  what 
he  says  himself;  for,  not  knowing  you  were  at  his  house, 
he  left  tliis  letter  for  you,  which  I  saw  him  write;  and 
indeed  it  came  from  his  pen  as  if  it  had  been  before  in- 
dited." 

This  indiied  letter  being  produced,  was  given  to  Alta- 
mont, who,  at  Mrs.  Gladwin's  request,  read  as  follows : 
"  My  dear  Madam, 

«  In  a  moment  of  extreme  agitation,  I  employ  my 
pen  to  explain  to  you  the  most  painful  occurrence  of  my 
fife.  I  will  lay  open  my  heart,  and  throw  myself  on 
your  candor.  The  most  generous  of  women  will  not 
distrust  tlie  purity  of  my  motives,  or  the  disinterested- 
ness of  my  conduct." 

(Here  Celia,  jumping  up,  exclaimed,  "  I  told  you  so  j 
I  knew  he  would  be  noble  and  disinterested.") 

"  It  is  curious  to  reflect,  that  my  present  uneasiness 
arises  from  a  sovirce  whence  it  could  be  least  suspected ; 
that  it  is  produced  by  your  confiilenee;  and  that  what 
was  at  first  my  supreme  tiiumph,  is  become  the  instru^ 
meat  of  my  most  exquisite  torment." 


VALSINORE.  161 

(Here  Celia's  eyes  brightened ;  Altamont  looked  down, 
unable  to  disguise  bis  disapprobation  of  sueii  fulsome 
flattery.  Winny  looked  up,  as  ifsbc  would  have  asked, 
What  is  all  this  to  the  purj)ose  ?) 

*♦  By  what  fatality  have  you  been  inJluenced,  by  what 
mysterioJis  insj)ira(ion  were  you  directed  to  repose  such 
unlimited  trust  iu  tlie  person  you  should  have  been  ujost 
anxious  to  avoid  ?  That  I  iiave  not  viduntarily  bvtruy 
cd  vour  trust,  is  now  my  only  bapjiiness  and  consola- 
tion." 

(•'  Ah,  bow  elegantly  be  writes !  what  magic  in  liis 
pen!''  murmuied  Celia.  Nobody  contradicted  lier. 
AViiniy  was  seized  witli  a  fit  of  coughing,  which  for  a 
short  time  suspended  the  reading.) 

**  It  is  necessary  to  explain  to  you  the  circumstance 
which  occasioned  the  delusion  under  which  we  liave  botii 
acted;  a  circumstance  which  involved  the  most  moment- 
ous event  of  my  life — the  or.ly  secret  I  have  not  reposed 
in  your  faitliful  sympatiiizing  bosom."' 

(Ah  !  sighed  she ;  ah  !  thought  she,  his  wife  is  not  a 
woman  to  confide  in.) 

•*  1  am  descended  from  a  clergyman  of  the  name  of 
Lisle,  which  custom  corrupted  to  Loyle.  6ej)arated 
from  my  family  in  early  life,  I  had  no  intercourse  with 
any  bra)ich  of  it  but  my  deceased  uncle,  the  unworthy 
lius!)and  of  your  excellent  friend  Mrs.  Winilrcd.  Thougli 
Unacquainted  with  ids  blameless  wife,  I  was  aware  of 
bis  flagitious  conduct,  and  1  trust  it  was  from  no  impro- 
per or  unbecoming  piide,  that  I  wished  not  to  acknow- 
ledge so  disgraceful  a  relation.  The  slight  change  in 
my  own  name,  wbicli  had  beeti  adopted  in  my  youth,  in 
a  great  measure  shielded  me  from  exposure,  and  I  bo- 
]fcd  to  pass  through  life  without  even  participating  in  hi»^ 
reproach.  Yet  though  tremblingly  alive  to  the  delicacy 
of  rej)ntation,  I  was  not  callous  to  the  claims  of  humanity  ; 
and  when  this  distressed  kinsman,  seven  years  ago,  im- 
plored my  aid  to  save  him  from  the  horrors  of  a  jail,  I 
did  not  witbhoM  assistance ;  but  having  supplied  his 
Wants,  pr(»cured  hin»  a  situation  abroad,  to  which,  with 
a  vi«w  of  escaping  from  bis  creditors,  he  went  under  » 

03 


162  VAtSINORE. 

fictitious  name ;  and  by  these  means  you  were  induced 
to  credit  the  rumor  of  his  death. 

"  It  was  durin.^  this  interval  that  you  reposed  in  me 
your  confidence,  and  that  I  became  entrusted  with  the 
property  to  which  my  uncle  was  legally  entitled.  That 
1  had  no  suspicion  of  this  fact  is,  however,  not  extra- 
ordinary ;  for  as,  with  that  discretion  for  which  you  are 
so  eminently  conspicuous,  you  disclosed  not  Mrs.  Wini- 
fred's sirname,  it  was  impossible  1  should  arrive  at  such 
a  conclusion :  I  therefore  entered  into  negotiations  for 
the  estate,  which  appeared  so  desirable  a  purchase  j  but 
of  which,  owing  to  the  minority  of  one  of  the  parties 
concerned,  no  conveyance  has  been  formally  executed 
in  Mr.  Altamont's  favor.  Whilst  maturing  your  sug- 
gestions for  his  advantage,  without  knowing  why  he 
was  thus  selected,  1  received  another  application  from 
my  unfortunate  kinsman,  who  had  returned  to  England 
with  a  broken  constitution,  and  was  again  pursued  by  a 
merciless  creditor,  whom  he  had  previously  softened 
with  promises  of  payment.  In  this  extremity  he  threw 
himself  on  my  charity  ;  and  you  will  easily  conceive  I 
was  unable  to  resist  the  supplication.  Sincerely  did  I 
deplore  the  circumstances  which  rendered  his  introduc- 
iiion  to  my  own  family  impracticable  ;  heartily  did  I  wish 
it  had  been  possible  to  shelter  him  under  my  own  roof, 
and  to  sooth  the  complicated  sufferings  of  age  and  infirm- 
ity. Precluded  from  this  satisfaction,  I  procured  him 
an  asylum  within  a  few  miles  of  my  own  house,  where, 
to  escape  the  importunity  of  his  creditors,  he  lived  in 
the  strictest  privacy,  known  only  by  tlie  name  of  Framp- 
ton,  and  only  visited  by  a  medical  attendant.  The  state 
of  liis  health  excited  most  seiious  alarm,  and  called  for 
every  possible  indulgence.  To  procure  farther  advice, 
I  clandestinely  accompanied  him  to  London,  where  the 
first  physician  of  the  age  pronounced  his  ease  hopeless. 
This  sentence  I  cai-efully  concealed,  but  redoubled  my 
former  cares  and  attentions. 

<*  It  was  at  this  period  that  he  communicated  to  me 
many  interesting  partieulai^  of  his  wife  Winifred,  of 
whom  he  had  so  long  lost  all  traces^  that  he  suppo6e<Jl 


VALSINORE. 


16S 


licr  io  be  dead.  He  had  formerly  been  imformed,  b>  "* 
an  iniptirtiinate  creditor,  that  she  was  possessed  of 
considerable  property,  the  produce  of  a  prize  in  the  lot- 
tery. He  now  received  an  anonymous  letter  to  this  pur- 
port, from  some  person  who  liad  penetrated  his  ficti- 
tious name,  and  who  intimated  that  this  money  had  pass- 
ed from  hcrliands  to  those  c^f  a  stranger. 

*♦  He  construed  tiiis  passaj^e  into  an  intimation  of 
her  death;  and,  to  do  him  Justice,  expressed  mucli  con- 
trition for  his  former  transgressions  :  yet,  conceiving 
himself  somewiiat  indebted  to  my  kindness  ;  conceiving 
too,  tliat  lie  and  liis  heirs  were  at  least  as  fully  entitled 
to  tlic  property  as  strangers,  he  caused  a  bond  to  be 
executed  in  my  favor,  by  whi;  ii  I  should,  at  any  tin)e.  be 
enabled  to  seize  on  the  effects  (whatever  they  might  be) 
so  long  sequestered  from  his  use. 

"  It  was  at  this  i)eriod  that,  for  the  first  time,  I  had 
even  a  surmise  that  the  person  for  whom  1  had  acted  as 
a  trustee  was  Mrs.  Winifred.  1  resisted  the  suspicion  •, 
and  on  my  return  to  Bcachdale,  anxious  to  escape  the 
predicament  in  which  I  must  be  placed  by  such  a  con- 
nection, 1  made  no  new  researches,  1  used  no  means  of 
enquiry.  I  am  persuaded  \our  memory  will  suj)ply  a 
thousand  instances  in  which  1  have  shunned  the  subject 
I  miglit  have  so  easily  elucidated.  The  discovery  which 
has  at  length  taken  place,  was  produced  by  means  inde- 
pendent of  my  agency,  and  appears  to  have  been  s(dely 
the  work  of  destiny.  My  unhappy  kinsman  was  evi- 
dently drawing  near  his  end  ;  yet,  with  that  sanguine 
spirit  which  belongs  to  his  malady,  still  cherisliing  dreams 
of  recovery,  and  still  sighing  to  prolong  cxistenc*';.  He 
had  heard  of  the  salubrious  air  of  the  neighboring 
downs.  I  removed  him  tiiitiier.  He  there  heard  aKsa 
of  an  extraordinary  young  man,  who  was  sii])posed  to 
possess  some  occult  power,  extending  fiu*  beyund  the 
limits  of  medical  science.  Mr.  Satcliell  was  introduced 
to  him,  and,  unsuspected  by  me,  induced  Mrs.  Winifred 
to  visit  the  dying  patient.  What  followed  was  inevita- 
ble. My  unfortunate  kinsman  is  now  at  rest.  In  the 
last  moments  of  life,  heat  once  experienced  the  pai>ga 
of  remorse  and  the  teiidcrucss  of  cousolatiou. 


^Q.  TALSINOKE. 

•  "I  now  come  to  the  most  painful  part  of  my  task, 
the  publicity  of  this  Iratisaction  haviiii;  rciuk'i'ed  it  im- 
possible that  1  should  continue  to  puiticipate  in  a  legal 
fraud.  As  heir-at-law,  1  am  to  perform  the  rigid  duties 
of  an  executor,  which  are,  1  conceive,  in  total  opposi- 
tion to  the  intended  (h)naiion  to  Mr.  Altamont. — Hajjpi- 
ly  the  conveyances  have  not  been  executed  in  his  name, 
which  will  prevent  some  confusion :  haj)'j)ily,  too,  your 
incomparable  prudence  has  v.ilhhehnVom  him  those  ex- 
pectations which  must  now  inevitably  terminate  in  dis- 
app(>intment." 

Hitherto  Cell  a  had  listened  with  some  sentiments  of 
coni])lacency,  but  now  she  suddeidy  broke  forth : — 
«  For  all  tliifi,  if  he  does  not  make  it  all  over,  he  is  the' 
veriest  wretch  on  earth  !"  She  then  snatched  the  letter 
from  Altamont,  adding,  *' Either  he  is  a  great  man,  or 
a  great  villain." 

"  Good  Mi*.  Altamont,"  cried  Winny,  Hap])y  had 
it  heen  for  me  to  have  died  ere  it  had  come  to  this." 

Here  Altamont,  touched  by  her  distress,  besought' 
her  to  he  comforted  ;  adding,  that  he  should  heartily  re- 
joice in  Mr.  De  Lille's  acrjuisition. 

"  How  !"  cried  Celia,  •'  would  you  connive  at  itii- 
quity  and  injustiee  ?  Was  not  this  money  obtained 
through  the  bounty  of  others  ?  was  it  not  destined  through 
your  medium,  to  diffuse  blessings  to  mankind  ?" 

"  My  dear  friend,  you  are  deceived  by  the  ar- 
dor of  your  affections.  Had  I  sooner  kno\vn  in  what 
manner  this  property  was  ohtained,  1  .should  kave,  par- 
don me,  voluntarily  declined  a  donation  so  i-epugnant' 
to  the  nicer  feelings  of  honor.  I  a«n  not  going  to  dis- 
euss  the  principle  of  abstract  right :  1  readily  allow  the' 
laws  are  unjust,  hut  1  scorn  to  evade  them." 

<*  Ah,  dear  Miss  Celia,"  cried  Winny,  why  would' 
yt)U  not  take  it  to  yourself  ?  all  had  then  been  well.  Mr. 
De  Lille  indeed  offers,  in  this  letter,  to  settle  part  of  it' 
On  you  ;  and  he  said  something  about  compromising' 
matters  (that  was  his  word  witli  Mr.  Altamont  j)  any 
thing  to  avoid  a  law  suit." 

<♦  Motliing,"  x'eturned  Altamont,  **  should  induce  me 


VAtSINORE.  i65 

to  litigate  with  Mr.  Dc  Lille ;  but  I  should  fool  dogra- 
ded  by  listeni:ig  to  any  terms  of  compromise.  There 
is  here  no  difference,  no  arbitration  necessary  ;  one  jtulge 
is  sufficient ;  the  verdict  is  already  given,  and  there  lies 
no  other  appeal." 

<*  Good,  excellent  young  man  !"  ci*ied  Winny  ;  "  oh, 
may  you  find  your  reward  !'* 

"  Noble  creature  !"  reiterated  Celi a,  forgetting  even 
disappointment  in  her  admiration  of  his  magnanimity; 
"and  can  you  so  easily  relinquish  case,  pleasure,  inter- 
«st,  and  love  ?" 

«  The  last  word  probably,  recalled  some  painful  im- 
pressions to  the  mind  of  Altamont ;  hut  forcing  a  smile, 
lie  was  about  to  answer  her  in  a  soothing  strain,  when 
he  perceived  De  Lille  issuing  from  the  park,  and  unwil- 
ling to  confront  him  at  such  an  aukward  moment,  has- 
tily withdrew,  just  in  time  to  escape  the  renconter,  re- 
turningjby  a  circuitous  route  to  Valiancy  house. 

Do  Lille  approached  the  Grange  with  no  enviable 
sensations.  At  the  moment  when  he  was  felicitating 
himself  on  the  success  of  one  stratagem  he  was  baffled 
in  another ;  Celia's  premature  discovery,  by  thwarting 
his  views  of  concealment,  had  wounded  the  stronger 
passion  of  his  little  soul — his  vanity  ;  and  he  came  with 
a  determination  either  to  win  her  to  unbounded  submis- 
sion, or  to  provoke  her  to  open  enmity,  lie  found  her 
standing  in  front  of  the  door,  holding  in  her  hand  tl»e 
half-read  letter.  Winny  sat  moaning  in  her  easy  chair, 
and  Aleck,  wiio  ftdlowod  his  steps,  placed  liimself  on  a 
low  stool  in  an  opposite  corner.  On  his  entrance  tliere 
was  a  momentary  pause.  Celia  waving  her  liand,  said 
«  Well,  Sir,  I  am  sure  you  will  do  all  that  honor  re- 
quires ?" 

<*  I  trust,"  replied  he,  **  I  shall  do  my  duty." 

<*  Tiie  first  duty  is  to  fulfil  your  engagements  ?" 

He  began  to  recapitidate  the  sum  of  his  letter,  which 
Wlnny  said  liad  been  long  since  indited.  She  listened 
witli  downcast  eyes,  violently  struggling  with  her  angry 
sensations.  W' hen  he  spoke  of  Winny's  fulfilling  her 
iutcntioiis  in  favor  of  Aleck,  a  smile  of  contempt  partetl 


166  VAISINORE. 

hor  lips :  wlicn  lie  alluded  to  terms  of  compromise  M'ith  Al- 
taniont,  her  cheeks  flushed,  yet  she  coiitroiiied  lier  speech  : 
but  when  he  ventured  to  repeat  what  he  had  also  previous- 
ously  intimated,  that  he  wished  she  also  should  receive  a 
gratuity,  she  raised  her  eyes,  and  vehemently  exclaimed, 
♦*  Jasper  De  Lille,  my  soul  disdains  thee  !  measure  not 
your  views  with  mine;  oh,  man  of  little  faith  and  low 
dcsii'i's  !  Krjow,  Altamont  also  contemns  your  pretended 
terms  of  compromise  ;  keep  the  property  you  have  pur- 
loined from  unsuspecting  confidence  and  virtuous  integ- 
rity i  keep  your  money,  it  is  not  for  us — we  barter  not 
our  honor  :"  thentearing  the  letter,  she  strewed  it  over 
the  floor,  adding,  *'  Thus  be  our  friendship  sundered 
forever."  De  Lille  attempted  to  sooth  her,  but  she  was 
intractable.  He  then  retorted  her  own  breach  of  faith, 
in  having  accelerated  the  discovery  without  his  know- 
ledge or  approbation.  Imjjatient  of  lebuke,  she  retort- 
ed with  acrimony,  observing,  if  he  was  sincere  in  his 
professions,  he  might  administer  to  the  property,  and 
restore  it  solely  to  Winny,  who  would  know  how  to  rCliu 
derit  ustfjil  to  society. 

De  Lille  perceiving  this  was  the  critical  moment,  and 
that  since  she  could  not  be  appeased  she  must  be  bravedj 
fired  at  her  insinuation,  chafed  again,  and  made  the 
breach  eternal.  Yet,  on  quitting  the  room,  he  had  the 
addrt  ss  to  take  Aleck  aside,  and  to  assure  him,  that  had 
be  acceded  to  Celia's  proposal,  Mi-s.  Winifred  would  be 
accessiI)lo  to  othei*  claimants,  by  wliom  she  must  eventu- 
ally he  involved  in  a  ruinous  litigation.  Then  repeating 
his  offers  of  service,  he  left  the  house,  happy  to  think  him- 
self rid,  on  so  fair  a  pretext,  of  one  who,  as  a  friend, 
mitrht  ha\e  made  such  claims  on  his  generosity  as  he 
was  little  disposed  to  allow  ;  and  who  was  too  notorious- 
ly eccentric  to  have  any  power,  as  an  enemy,  to  injure 
his  reputation.  Yet  his  satisfaction  was  far  from  being 
complete  ;  and  scarcely  could  the  pi'ospect  of  acquiring 
so  much  property  console  him  for  the  publication  of  his 
real  name  and  connexions. 

His  father  and  uncle  were  the  two  elder  sons  of  a 
Welsh  curate,  who  struggled  hard  to  maintain  a  numer*. 


>^ 


VALSiyoits.  167 

«»s  family.  The  former  was  cnaljled,  by  the  partial 
munificeiice  of  a  ii-aiiU'ii  aunt,  to  obtain  an  cnsigncy  j 
his  biother,  u  pinijiii,  at  the  driidgei^  of  an  attorm  y's 
ofticc,  t  ntered  the  army  also»  but  under  very  ditfercnt 
aus]>ic<'s  ;  he  enlisted;  and,  to  the  .i^iief  of  liis  lather, 
was  sent  ab!"oa<l  before  any  efforts  could  be  made  for 
pniciii ing  his disehaii^e.  The  father  of  Jaspar  embark- 
ed for  tlie  East  indits,  and  duiinj^the  voyage  captiva- 
ted a  >oung  portionless  lady,  wiio  was  going  out  under 
the  protection  of  his  colonel's  lady.  A  clandesti)ie  mar- 
riage was  the  con.s<'quenee  ;  a  reluctant  reconciliation 
wiihthi'  lad} 's  friends  took  place.  1  he  young  man  was 
beginning  to  hope  foi*  some  advancement  of  fortune, 
when  he  was  carried  offbj  a  coup  de  soldi,  just  after  his 
wife  had  brought  into  the  world  a  son,  who  was  called 
Jas])ar. 

It  was  not  likely  that  so  young  a  Midow  sliould  long 
pine  in  weeds  i  lier  protectress  suggesbd  that  the  infant 
boy  siiould  be  sert  to  England  to  the  father's  relations. 
Tho  widow  resisted,  till  she  was  addressed  by  a  man  of 
fortiMt ,  and  tijen  consented.  Jaspar  was  conveyed  to 
Englan'l,  remain*  diliree  years  in  Wales,  and  seemed 
destined  to  pass  his  life  in  hun>ble  obscurity.  In  the 
meantime  the  younger  Dc  Lille  had  als(>  met  with  his 
adventures,  and.  having  obtain<'d  his  discharge,  was  fi- 
nally re-estaldished  in  his  father's  house.  He  became 
fondly  attached  to  his  nephew  ,  anM  discovering  that  he 
possessed  a  talent  for  music,  cultivated  it  with  such  care, 
that,  before  he  was  six  years  of  age.  he  was  distinguish- 
ed by  the  appellation  of  the  Little  Minstr^^l.  About  thid 
time  his  uncle  learnt  that  Lis  nsother,  \\h<-  since  l»er  hus- 
band's ileath  had  formed  a  spl'-ndid  estal)lishment,  was 
returned  for  ht*r  health  to  Knglund,  and  resided  at  a 
be.'»vUtiful  seat  in  Sfnuej-si-tshire,  Anxious  for  tho  wel- 
fare of  liis  brother's  offspriijg,  he  contrived  to  intM.duce 
him  to  his  lady's  manor  ;  pixsented  lum  as  a  pioligy  in 
music  :  and  perceiving  she  was  c-^ptivated  «vitn  bis  skill, 
divulged  the  relationship  between  them.  Velatilr  as  she 
>vits,  she  could  n't  be  whollv  insensiMe  t(.  the  tender 
pleadings  of  nuturc  :  and  she  fondly  detained  the  boy  to 


168  TAISINOKE. 

be  brought  up  witb  her  two  other  children,  lavisliing  on 
him  tlie  vSiiiue  luxuries,  \^ithout  reflecting  that  he  wii»  re- 
serv*  (i  for  a  far  (iiffercnt  destiny. 

Under  Ik  r  auspices,  Jaspar  acquired  elegance  and  flu- 
eiic} ,  a  keen  relisl,  for  pleasure,  an  exquisite  tact  in  cun- 
ning, and  above  all,  an  inordinate  degree  of  vanity.  His 
education  was  injudiciously  expensive  ;  but  his  mother 
flattered  !i<  iself  she  should  be  able  to  provide  for  him  ad- 
vantageously in  India  ;  and  she  instilled  into  his  ir»in(i  the 
same  ag!veable  expectations  :  but  her  unlooked  foi*  death 
destroyed  thes?  first  visions  of  youth.  Jas])ar  was  left  de- 
pendent on  the  guardians  of  his  half-brothers,  whom  he 
seci-etly  hated  and  envied,  and  by  whom  he  was  in  turn 
suspected  and  contemned  :  finally,  he  was  dissmissed 
with  a  thousand  pounds,  and  an  eiisigncy,  and  left  to 
shape  Ids  way  to  fortune.  He  was  now  almost  an  out- 
cast on  society,  for  as  he  was  unwillingly  owned  by  his 
motlier's  connexions,  he  co;dd  scarcely  bear  to  acknow- 
ledge the  remnants  of  his  father's  house.  The  curate 
hac  long  since  ])aid  tlie  debt  of  nature ;  some  of  his  des- 
cendants were  reduced  to  the  lov/est  station  ;  but  his 
uncle,  the  only  being  besides  his  mother  who  had  ever 
shewn  him  affection,  still  claimed  a  recognition,  which 
was  yielded  witfs  reluctance. 

After  passing  tlirough  many  vicissitudes,  this  man^ 
at  hngtli,  became  an  itinerant  player,  in  which  situa- 
tion he  neither  asked  n*r  received  notice.  Jaspar  had 
ambition,  cr  rather  th a- vanity  wiiich  aspires  t«)  ambi- 
tious distinction.  Hig  pr)fession  giving  no  scope  to  his 
passion,  he  took  a tiip  to  Frar.c**,  softening  his  name  of 
Lisle  into  De  Lille.  At  Paris  he  engaged  the  affec- 
tions of  a  lovely  girl,  who  was  just  witiidrawn  from  the 
convent,  and  destine  d  by  her  father,  an  English  baronet, 
for  the  son  )t  that  la*ly  inw!»ose  house  s'.ie  was  now  an 
inmote.  To  escape  from  an  union  to  which  she  had  con- 
ceived an  insu]>erabl-  avt  rsion,  AJiss  M  .-rdaent  listened 
to  De  Lille's  solicitation  for  a  private  maiTiage,  'ind  ac- 
coirr.panied  him  to  Liirhtud,  wiiere  she  was  entitled  to 
ree-Mver.  handsome  iegacy/(vhich  was  eventually  her 
only  fortune. 


VALSTNOHE.  169 

The  father  incensed  by  this  act  of  disobedience,  and 
shocked  to  discover  that  she  was  united  to  a  man  of  h)\v 
fan.ily,  formally  renounced  his  daugliter ;  and  tliat  he 
might  not  be  tempted  to  i-evoke  his  vows,  fixed  liis  resi- 
dence on  the  Continent. 

The  De  Lilies  were  in  a  few  years  reduced  to  indi- 
gence ;  the  elegant  Jaspar  found  it  necessary  to  dispose 
of  his  commission,  and  gratefully  accepted  that  ambigu- 
ous situati(»n  whicii  procuivd  his  final  establishment  with 
Mrs.  Valiancy.  A  short  time  previous  to  Jiis  marriage, 
he  was  api)allcd  by  an  application  from  his  uncle,  and 
eagi'riy  purchased  his  silence  and  dismission,  by  procu- 
ring for  him  an  appointment  in  the  \S'est  Indies.  Du- 
ring his  absence,  it  was  reported  that  he  was  dead  ;  and 
it  was  under  this  pei"suasion,  that  Celia  consulted  De 
Lille  on  the  means  of  purchasing  an  estate  for  AUa- 
rinont. 

The  i*eturn  of  Lisle  to  England,  his  ill  health,  the 
persceutioji  of  his  creditor,  his  supplications  to  his  ju'os- 
perous  nephew,  and  the  relief  he  obtained,  all  liappoied 
precisely  as  he  had  detailed  in  his  letter  to  Mrs.  Glad- 
Min.  His  first  stipulation  for  concealment  was  prompt- 
ed by  vanity ,^but  to  this  was  soon  added  a  stronger  mo- 
tive of  interest.  He  had  originally  accepted  Celia's 
confidence,  for  the  pleasure  of  exciting  her  enthusiasm 
and  rec«ivi)ig  her  adulation.  He  ha(l  paid  little  atten- 
tion to  her  ravings  of  Altamont,  and  undertook  to  pro- 
inot<^  her  views,  purely  to  ha^  c  the.  edat  of  disinterested 
generosity.  But  in  conversing  with  his  uncle,  he  was 
apprized  of  circumstances  which  soon  convinced  him, 
that  this  destitute  kinsman  was  the  husband  of  Mrs. 
Winifred.  His  vic\> s  were  then  soon  extended.  Vani- 
ty was  almost  supplanted  by  cupidity,  and  he  w  as  solely 
occupied  in  devising  plans  for  securing  to  himself  the 
fnr»ncy,  so  ^nvitiugly  placed  within  his  reach.  His  first 
impulse  was  to  divulge  the  transaction  to  his  uncle  ;  but 
on  second  thoughts,  he  reflected  that  he  might  not  be 
Tienefited  by  securing  his  independence  ;  that  the  pro- 
peity  might  be  disposed  of  among  por.rer  relations;  and 
that  in  this  case  he  should  have  sacrificed  his  own  repu- 

P 


170  VALSINORE. 

tation  without  obtaining  a  recompence.  In  this  dilem- 
ma of  selfishness  !.f  had  recouise  to  a  refined  and  elabo- 
rate system  of  artifice.  He  afftcted  to  feel  for  his  un- 
cle the  most  affectionate  solicitude,  and  besought  him  to 
remain  on  that  sequstered  spot,  for  the  facility  of  fre- 
quent communication. 

The  eld«n'  Lisle,  whose  health  was  really  in  a  perilous 
state,  and  who  had  been  chastened  by  adversity,  was  not 
insensible  to  kindness,  and  readily  acqjicsced  in  tlic  sug- 
gestion. As  his  malady  gained  ground,  De  Lille  thought 
proper  to  convey  to  him  some  intimati  >ns  of  his  wife's 
clandestine  wealth.  An  anonymous  letter  was  fabricated 
for  ihis  purpose,  wliic.h  being  received  in  London,  and 
at  the  time  he  was  staying  there  with  his  nephew  to  re- 
ceive medical  advice,  rendered  iiim  anxious  to  return 
to  liis  former  retreat.  De  Lille  confirmed  him  in  the 
persuasion  that  his  wife  was  dead,  and  that  the  proper- 
ty ha<i  passed  into  other  hands.  He  lamented  the  cir- 
cumstances which  must  render  any  personal  interference 
on  his  part  hazardous  to  his  personal  security,  and  sug- 
gested the  expedient  of  a  bond  being  given  to  himselfyj 
which,  should  any  traces  of  the  effects  be  discovered, j 
■would  enable  him  to  take  the  most  rigorous  measures  I 
for  their  recovery.  With  this  proposal  tlie  elder  Lisle, 
wh«!  could  have  no  suspicion  of  his  latent  \iews,  cordial- 
ly acquiesced,  and  the  legal  instrument  was  accordingly 
put  into  De  Lille's  possession. 

On  the  patient's  return  to  the  Heath,  he  grew  worse ; 
and  as  Celia  began  to  manifest  great  impatience,  De 
X»ille  determined  to  bring  about  the  «liscovei'y,  by  means 
so  simple  and  apparently  so  natural,  that  no  evidence 
should  be  adduced  of  his  immediate  interference.  The 
removal  to  the  White  House,  the  mention  of  Aleck,  and 
the  final  interview,  all  followed  in  due  course  ;  and  as 
Celia  ha('  always  withheld  from  him  Winifred's  sirname,iil 
he  took  advantage  of  that  circumstance  to  disclaim  alllii 
consciousness  of  the  relationship  between  them.  Ii 

In  withholding  the  estate  from  Altamont,  he  was  shel- 
tered, not  mrr-^ly  by  the  privilege  of  being  heir-at-law, 
fcut  by  the  specious  plea,  that  were  he  to  relinquish   hi» 


valsinore;.  17i 

•wri  rights,  he  could  not  annul  tliose  of  the  other  rela- 
tions. He  was  aware,  that  he  iiiii^lftsaf<4y  oiler  a  com- 
pensation to  Altaniont,  whose  I  igh  spiiit  would  ii  ver 
stooj)  to  incur  ju'cuniarv  oblit^ations.  To  the  accusations 
of  such  a  fantastic  being  as  Ctlia,  he  attached  little  ini- 
poi'tance.  Sle>'  iiad  certainly  been  accessary  to  a  legal 
fraud,  a  charge  which  was  revolving  to  tho  public  car. 
Romantic  generosity  was  al\va^  s  scanned  by  the  w  >rM 
with  suspicious  distrust ;  andexpfMifnc  miglit  load  hiiu 
to  expict,  not  otily  to  divert  censtne  from  liis  own  c  n- 
duet,  but  to  (ix  it  on  the  very  person  who  had  been  du- 
ped by  his  artiiicc  and  duplicity. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

DE  LILLE  had  at  first  disliked  Altamont,  from  the 
idea  tiuit  he  was  an  impediment  to  his  views  of  interest ; 
he  then  distrusted  him  from  the  consciousii'^ss,  tl'.at  he 
was  himself  undeser>'ing  of  confidence  ;  and  he  nov/  ha- 
ted him,  from  the  conviction  that  lie  was  one  wh(»m  he 
had  injured,  and  from  whom  he  could  not  extort  esteem. 
Vanity  was  always  his  master-spring  of  action ;  and 
this  restless  passion  now  suggested  another  motive  for 
augmenting  his  prejudice  to  Altamont.  He  had  not  been 
blind  to  Sii"  Frederic's  passion  for  Cordelia;  and  as  lie 
appeared  to  him  in  many  respects  more  disirable,  as  a 
son-in-law,  than  Valiancy,  he  often  contemplated,  with 
raj)turc,  the  probability  of  so  splendid  an  alliance. 
From  the  combination  of  these  circumstances  he  was 
greatly  displeased  to  obsei-ve  the  lovcr-Iike  appearance 
of  Altamont  and  his  daughter,  whose  ciicumspection 
had  hitherto  eluded  his  vigilance.  No  sooner,  therefore, 
had  he  dismissed  the  latter,  than  he  haughtily  asked,  if 
Altamont  participated  in  the  sentiments  of  his  friend, 
Mrs.  Gladwin?  Altamont  repli*  d,  that  excellent  as 
ilshe  was,  he  must  disown  ma)iy  of  her  prejudices  j  and 

Pj2 


172  YALSINOHB. 

then,  with  a  grace,  a  candor,  a  frankness,  which  it 
was  scarcely  possible  to  resist,  disclaimed  all  pretensi- 
ons to  the  property  in  rpirstion.  De  Lille  compliment- 
ed his  liberality  ;  but  not  doubting  that  he  expected  from 
Cordelia  his  reward,  was  more  than  ever  desirous  to 
expel  from  his  liouse  so  dangerous  an  inmate.  Unluck- 
ily too  for  Akamont,  he  happeiicd  to  express  his  satis- 
faction, that  Aleck  was  to  be  benefited  from  Winifred's 
liberality.  De  Lille's  vanity  was  instantly  offended, 
and  when  the  ingenuous  advocate  added,  that  he  trusted, 
her  interest  in  the  property  was  secured  under  every 
possible  contingency,  he  coolly  rejdied,  the  whole  would 
be  submitted  to  tlie  arbitration  of  Mr.  Quintin  and  Sir 
Frederic  Mowbray,  through  whose  medium  he  wished 
to  offer  to  him  some  recompence  for  his  disappointed  ex- 
pectations. Altamont  negatived  the  proposal  with  so 
much  spirit,  that  Dc  Lille's  pride  was  wounded ',  and, 
in  spite  of  himself,  he  envied  and  esteemed,  where  he 
hated  and  contemned. 

Daring  this  conference,  Mr.  Quintin  having  heard 
the  story  from  Aleck,  came  purposely  to  talk  of  it,  and 
to  his  great  delight,  found  his  news  had  not  been  fore- 
stalled.    His  details  were  not  long, — but  his  comments 
were  most  copious.     He  expatiated  with  delight  on  the 
ignorance  of  women  in  business,  and  their  incompetence 
to  any  transaction  of  real  importance.     His  dogmas 
M  ere  no  longer  controverted  by  Adela }  and  he  had  no  ] 
other  interru])tion  tlmn  that  of  seeing  his  auditors  one  | 
by  one  glide  away.     Mrs.  De  Lille,  agitated  by  doubt  j 
and  hope,  wont  in  quest  of  her  husband.     Cordelia,  i 
ovei'whelmcd  with  various  feelings,    withdrew"  to  her  i 
chamber.      Valiancy,    also,    having   loudly   inveighed 
against  De  Lille's  duplicity,  rushed  out  to  deposit  his 
indignation  with   his  injured  friend.     Adela  too  rose, 
and  Mr.  Quintin,  not  relishing  a  tete-a-tete,  returned 
to  the  Abbey. 

Valiancy  found  Altamont  reading  a  letter,  which  ap- 
peared to  have  deeply  affected  him.  He  put  it  into  his 
friend's  hands,  saying,  «<  My  mother  is  i)erhaps  by  this 
time  again  a  widow,  in  a  land  of  strangers."    The  le^< 


tcr  was  written  by  a  friend ;  and  announced  that  Mr. 
Bruce  was  so  ill,  in  consequence  of  a  paralvtic  seizure, 
that  a  few  hours  micjht  probably  terminate  his  existence. 
In  addition  too  to  this  melancholy  intellij^ence,  it  con- 
tained an  intimation,  that,  owin^  to  tlie  neglect  of  some 
legal  formalities,  it  was  doubted  whether  Mis.  Bruce 
might  not  forfeit  the  income,  which  ijcr  husband  had  in- 
tended to  be  a  provision  in  hrr  f;ivor. 

«  You  see,  theref»)re,"  sai<l  Altainont,  liowmuch  my 
presence  is  re(]iiirod.  My  mother  is  so  ill  fitted  for  such 
struggles,  that  even  with  my  assistance,  she  will  almost 
siiik  under  grief  and  care.  I  have  therefore  not  ono 
moment  to  lose,  and  must  instantly  proceed  to  London." 
'•  I  will  accompany  you  thither,"  cried  Valiancy, 
touched  with  gen. line  sympathy,  adding  with  a  new 
perception  of  delicacy,  *»  I  was  already  going;  and  bu» 
for  you,  must  have  had  a  solitai'y  journey."  Altamont; 
thanking  him  for  the  kindtiess,  began  making  the  neces- 
sary preparations  for  his  dep;irture,  whilst  Valiancy  or  • 

.  dereil  his  phfeton  with  all  possible  expedition. 

'  This  second  news  spread  with  no  less  rapiility  than 
the  first ;  and  when  Altamont.  fully  equipt  for  his  jour- 
ney, ivturned  to  the  parloi-,  with  the  single  exci'iHion 
of  De  Lille,  he  foinid  the  whsile  family  assendiled.  SVitli 
what  different  feelings  did  he  now  ap{)roach  that  sofa, 
on  which  he  had  so  lately  sat  indulging  every  dear  ro- 
mantic vision  of  hope  and  love.  Ahsorbed  in  the  idea 
of  his  mother's  sufterings,  he  entered  with  a  mild  com- 
posed asjieet,  and  paid  his  farewell  compliments  to  Mrs. 
De  Lille  and  Miss  Rouvigny,  ^^irh  dignity  and  projiii- 
cty.  Flitlierto  his  eyes  had  n'>t  sought  Cordelia ;  but  ho 
suddenly  perceived  her  leaning  against  the  window,  in 
a  distant  corner  of  the  apartment,  lie  approached  witU 
a  serene,  though  melanch(dy,  smile,  which  seemed  to 
attest  his  r  signation  ;  but,  when  he  saw  her  pale  looks, 
and  touched  her  cold  trembling  hand,  the  artificial  snulo 
vanished;  th'-  heart  almost  ff)rced  a  tear;  and,  with  a 
gl.ince  that  sp>ke  volames,  he  said,  in  a  low 
voice,  «  Cordelia !"  then,  breaking  away,  be  followed 
his  friend  to  the  carriage.    They  stopt   but  for  two 

f  3 


i74f  TALSINORE* 

minutes  at  tho  Grange,  to  apprize  Mrs.  Gladwin  of  tlK-ii^ 
sudden  departure  ;  and  then  proceeded  with  tlie  utmost 
expedition  to  London* 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 


.« 


*.. 


T'JEVER,  since  early  youth,  had  Altaraont  and  Val» 
fancy  been  so  truly  cordial,  as  during  tliis  journey.  The 
recollection  of  theii*  recent  difference  served  only  to  en- 
dear tlieir  present  union.  It  impressed  Valiancy  with 
augmented,  respect,  aiul  disposed  Altamont  to  be  mope 
affectionate,  lest  he  should  seem  to  harbor  any  remain- 
ing resentment..  Valiancy  poured  fortli  invectives  against 
De  Lille,  demanding  of  Altamont,  when  he  should  havo 
suggested  any  thing  in  extenuation  of  his  conduct,  if  he 
«ould  defend  his  duplicity  to  Mrs.  Gladwin  I 

*<  Certainly  not." 

*•  And  woidd  you  have  taken  advantage  of  the  most 
crooked  part  in  the  law,  to  steal  a  fortune  to  M'hich  youb' 
liad  na right  2" 

**  Nay,  never  appeal  to  me,"  rejoined  Altamont^ 
pained  to  hear  any  thing  to  the  prejudice  of  De  Lille, 
ifthom  he  still  wished  to  respect  as  tliC  father  of  Corde- 
Sa;  Fet  us,  rather  taJli  of  my  mother." 

Valiancy  remembered  lier  affectionately^  and,  though 
checked  by  the  recollection  of  liis  fiiend's  late  assertion, 
that  should  he  ever  be  tin-own  on  adversity,  he  could  no 
longer  find  anchorage  iu  his  affection,  ventured  to  inti- 
mate, tliat  he  should  in  future  expect  to  be  admitted  to 
a  friend's  most  hon«,>rabIe  privilege* 

Altamont  easily  gupssing  his  intentions,  replied,  that 
lie  was  just  going  to  solicit  his  assistance^  Valiancy's 
eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure 

"  Yes^  I  must  make  you  my  bondsman,  to  fulfil  the 
engagements  I  had  formed  in  my  own  ujind  with  Mrs^ 
Woodvillef  for  1  have  been  romantic  enough  to  dispose 


VALSINORE.  ±7B 

of  part  of  my  visionary  property  before  it  came  into  my 
possession." 

**  Tias  is  the  kindest  thing  you  ever  said  to  me.  What 
shall  I  give  her  ?'' 

**  I  had  intended  to  remit  to  her  for  the  present  year 
60  or  801." 

"  Pooh,  I  owe  Woodville  lOOl.  for  having  neglected 
liim  ;  here's  a  i30l.  hill,  and  a  draft  on  my  banker  to  the 
same  amount  i  take  them  both,  and  in  future  suffer  me, 
as  you  have  often  chidik'n  my  itileness,  to  pursue  the 
profession  of  a  banker  to  one  individual,  at  least."  He 
stopt,  checked  by  the  gravity  of  his  fiiend's  aspect,  "  I 
am  pleased  with  this  importunity,  since  it  is  so  honora- 
ble to  your  feelings^  that  it  ought  not  to  be  unwelcome  to 
mine;  but  you  know  my  sentiments  on  this  stibject,  and 
they  are  innnutable,"  Then  fearing  lest  his  friend  should 
think  he  retained  any  latent  displeasure,  he  forced  a 
smile,  and  began  talking  of  Miss  Houvigny. 

"  Unparalleled  coquette !"  exclaimed  Valiancy.— 
*'  And  do  you  really  think  she  is  well  affected  to  me  E 
Come,  come,  you  don't  believe  she  loves  me." 

«  Put  that  to  tlie  test,  and  don't  triile  with  happi- 
ness." 

"  Happiness  !  'tis  so  ridiculous, — and  this  is  the  very 
girl  I  liad  determined  to  dislike." 

"  For  which  very  reason  you  are  bound  to  make  her 
ample  reparatiofi." 

"  Wliy,  yes,  I  begin  to  think  there's  a  fatality  in  it, 
as  Mrs.  Gladwin  says  ;  yet  the  little  witcli  is  not  beau- 
tiful,— she  is  so  low  of  stature." 

*'  So  is  the  Venus  de  Medicis."' 

**  Then  her  visage  is  so  round." 

"   Doubtless  you  have  never  seen  her  dimples." 

"  Siu>  certainly  is  not  half  so  handsome  as  Cordelia." 

To  this  remark  Altamont  made  no  irj<»inder^  Val- 
iancy resumed. 

"  Apropos, — I  never  told  you  Sir  Frederic  has  at 
length  obtained  a  dispensation  for  taking  a  second  wife. 
He  received  the  account  of  Lady  Mowbray's  death  yes- 
terday, and  for  that  reason  was  not  of  our  party  in  th& 


176  VAISIJfORB. 

eveninj^.  It  is,  perhaps,  well  for  me  she  did  not  set  him 
at  liberty  sooner,  he  might  have  angled  for  Adela  in- 
stead of  Cordelia.'* 

Altaraont  had,  two  hours  before,  believed  he  could 
renounce  hope  ;  love,  for  the  moment,  yielding  to  the 
imperious  dictates  of  nature  ;  but  he  now  felt  an  unut- 
terable pang,  which  convinced  him,  that  if  he  should  re- 
sign hope,  he  could  not  escape  fear  5  and  that  jealousy, 
at  least,  had  stiil  access  to  his  bosom.  His  emotion  was 
not  perceived  by  his  coin])anion  ;  who,  liaving  returned 
to  the  subject  of  Miss  Rouvigny,  after  all  his  affected 
disparagement,  became  fluent  in  her  praise,  and  found 
the  tlieme  so  copious,  that  it  was  not  half  exhausted 
AvJien  they  reached  London. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

HAPPY  to  escape  from  the  restraints  of  uncongenial 
society  (for  how  can  sorrow  sympathize  with  hope,)  Al- 
tamont,  leaving  Valiancy  at  the  hotel,  proceeded  imme- 
diately with  the  offering  of  his  munificence  to  Mrs. 
\VoodvilIe's  lodging.  It  was  situated  in  an  obscure  court, 
surrounded  liki^  a  prison  by  other  buildings;  and  it  was 
not  without  difficulty  that  he  ascertained  which  was  her 
penurious  habitation.  He  entered  by  a  low^  door,  and 
Ijaving  descended  by  a  diily  staircase  to  the  second 
floor,  was  ushered  into  a  small  room  of  the  most  gloomy 
aspect;  its  close  unwholesome  atmosphere  seemed  loaded 
M  ith  care,  and  on  the  smoky  walls  you  might  trace  the 
dreariness  of  desolation,  dai'kened  by  the  shadows  of 
disapiwintment  ;  yet  in  spite  of  the  low  ceiling  and  tat- 
tered carpet,  the  three  or  four  rush-bottomed  chairs,  and 
the  crazy  wainscot  table,  it  exhibited  some  indications 
of  taste  and  refinement :  a  few  j)erishing  flowers  ap- 
I)eai'ed  in  a  glass  goblet  5  a  few  shells  were  arranged  on 


VALSINORE.  177 

tlie  niantlcpiccc,  and  some  elegantly  sketched   patterns 
were  strewn  on  tlieflooi-. 

Mrs.  Woodville  was  fondly  hanging  over  one  sick 
child,  and  endeavoring  to  appease  the  clamor  of  the 
other.  At  the  sight  of  a  stranger  she  started,  and  a 
faint  color  tinged  her  pale  cheeks  ;  but  her  eyes  bright- 
ened when  Altamont  announced  his  name  ;  and  she  ea- 
gerly exclaimed,  yes,  she  had  often  heard  her  husband 
speak  of  him.  Gratified  by  this  proof  of  remembrance, 
he  now  enquired  when  she  had  parted  from  Woodville, 
and  when  she  hoped  to  hear  of  him.  She  sighed  deeply 
at  these  enquiries,  and  confessed  she  scarcely  hoped  to 
hear  till  he  should  be  arrived  in  the  West  Indies.  "  I 
will,  then,  transfer  to  you  Madam,  the  commission  I  am 
charged  with,  and  which  has  occasioned  you  to  be  trou- 
bled "witli  this  visit." 

Mrs.  Woodville  turned  pale ;  for  she  had  been  so  long 
accustomed  to  calamity,  that  she  fancied  in  every  object 
the  liarbinger  of  evil. 

*<  1  hope,  Sir,"  said  she,  and  she  paused  and  trem- 
bled. 

*»  A  friend  of  mine,  who  has  been  long  indebted  to 
Mr.  Woodville,  retui-ns  you  this  in  part  of  payment." 

A  weight  seemed  removed  from  lier  heart — her  respi- 
ration was  again  free,  she  begged  him  to  be  seated, flew 
to  readi  him  a  chair,  and  a])ologized  for  tlie  homeliness 
of  his  reception.  One  other  cliildren  had  been  danger- 
ously ill,  and  slie  was  most  anxious  to  remove  to  the  coun- 
try for  his  recovery  :  this  she  hoped  now  to  do,  Alta- 
mont instantly  presented  to  hei'  the  pocket-book,  a  be- 
nevolent expression  beaming  in  his  countenance. 

She  to«)k  the  book  respectfully,  but  seemed  loath  to 
examine  its  contents,  unwilling,  perhaps,  to  discover  the 
precise  limitation  to  those  latent  hopes  which  once  more  a- 
rose  in  her  bosom.  She  then  spoke  of  her  Woodville  ;  and 
looking  as  if  there  was  something  she  feared,  yet  longed 
to  communicate,  added,  «•  Yes,  indeed,  Sir,  your  name 
is  familiar  to  me  j  we  shall  ever  have  occasion  to  re- 
member it." 

Altamont  expressed  his  chagrin  at  his   fiiend's  es- 


178  VALSINORE, 

trangement.  Mrs.  Woodvillc  frankly  confessed  that 
tliey  liad  lately  known  many  cares,  but  she  trusted  tlie 
worst  was  over.  "  But  wliy  should  I  not  tell  you  all  ? 
my  husband  was  lately  on  the  brink  of  a  jnison,  >vlien 
some  friend  of  yours—some  angel  in  the  fonn  of  man, 
who  had  heard  of  him  through  you,  paid  the  bill,  and 
set  him  at  libeity." 

Altamont  had  no  difficulty  in  attributing  this  benevo- 
lence to  Haller,  but  he  was  surprised  he  had  remained  in 
London  so  long  after  his  supposed  departure.  On  fur- 
ther enquirj,  he  learnt  that  Woodville  had  seen  him  on 
the  very  day  when  he  was  committed  to  the  Fleet ;  and 
that  he  had  no  sooner  asked  his  name,  than  he  enquired 
if  he  was  not  acquainted  with  Altamont.  He  had  then 
dismissed  tiie  writ,  and  loft  a  small  sum  for  their  imme- 
diate relief.  On  the  same  day  Woodville  liad  met  with 
an  old  acquaintance,  wlio  offered  him  the  clfoice  of  going 
to  the  West  Indies.  Haller  had  changed  their  d«  siiny, 
and  Mrs.  Woodville  gratefully  im])uted  every  thing  to 
his  influence  ;  yet  she  seemed  ciinscious  that,  in  thus 
frankly  disclosing  tlieir  distress,  she  had  offended  her 
husband's  scrupulous  delicacy  ;  and  she  confessed  (color- 
ing deeply)  he  had  not  wisiied  these  particulars  shoidd 
be  communicated  to  Altamont ;  not  that  he  was  un- 
thankful, but  he  was  always  so  much  afraid  to  appear 
intruding.  "  But  had  he  seen  you,"  she  rejoined,  "I 
am  sure  his  gratitude  could  not  have   been  suppressed." 

Altamont,  wishing  to  relieve  her  embarrassment,  des- 
cribed Haller*s  character,  and  related  in  what  manner 
he  had  been  introduced  to  his  acquaintance.  At  the 
name  of  Beachdale,  Mrs  Woodville  smiled  i  and  how 
soon  was  her  satisfaction  reflected  to  Altamont,  when 
he  learnt  that  the  place  to  wliich  she  purposed  going  was 
no  other  than  the  White  House,  on  that  favorite  hill 
from  which  she  might  descry  the  mansion  that  contained 
Cordelia. 

There  was  instantly  a  revulsion  in  his  feelings  ;  he 
was  again  only  sensible  to  hope  and  love  ;  and  whilst 
Mrs.  Woodville,  now  yielding  to  unreserved  frankness, 
mentioned  her  having  been  lately  employed  in  drawing 


TAlSISrORE.  1^9 

patterns,  an  occupation  which,  as  soon  as  she  should  be 
8uj)plie(]  MJtli  orders,  she  couM  pursue  with  c(ju;il  ad- 
vanta,i^o  in  town  oi  cu;tnti'y,  Altaniont,  scarcely  hciuing 
what  shr  said,  ncolhcted  that  she  might  find  a  Itenc- 
factress  in  Cordelia — recnlhctcd  too  that  he  couhi  not 
have  wished  for  a  ntore  ha[»py  moment  to  address  her. 
Elated  with  tliie  thoui^ht,  lie  suddenly  interrupted  iter, 
to  desire  she  should  convey  a  note  to  Miss  De  l  WW,  to 
introduce  her  to  Valiancy  House  ;  and  in  the  same  bnatli 
extoited  a  promise,  that  sh<  should  transmit  some  ac- 
count of  iuM'si'lf  and  iiis  friends  immediat''ly  on  her  ar- 
rival. At  this  moment  it  occurred  to  him,  that  he  had 
another  pretext  r>;'  oritin!!?  to  Cordelia,  havintr  in  his 
pireipitation  h'ft  behind  liim  tlie  legend  of  Cuiin  lius. 
He  was  clieered  by  this  ivfieetion,  nierely  because  it 
eecnjed  to  form  a  link  of  commm\ic.iti  ju  i)etween  them, 
and  gladly  accepted  pen  and  ink  for  his  Jirst  billet  to 
Cordelia. 

He  was  now  reused  fiom  his  pleasing  abstraction  by 
an  exclamation  from  M;  s.  Woodville  ;  who  having  at 
length.  Mpcn'Ml  the  pocket-book,  was  rapturously  con- 
templating its  contents  S!»e  ga/ed  on  the  hills ;  turned, 
examined  th'Mn  ;  and  being  at  length  satisfied  that  it  was 
n<>  illusion,  caught  lier  children  in  her  arms,  and,  to 
make  tiiem  p  irtake  hei-  Jovs.  lavished  Ifer  caresses.  But 
her  <ra';s])orts  were  cheeked  by  the  reflection  that  her 
\\)odvill"  could  not  share  her  happiness.  She  grieved 
that  he  Iiad  not  h.'en  provided  with  more  comforts  for 
his  voyage  j  yei  she  was  consoled  by  thinking,  that  she 
coijld  easily  ss  nd  <«ut  any  artieks  he  wanted.  Then 
slie  reeoilectec'  !iis  debts,  and  she  l«  nged  to  de<licate  the 
viiiole  sum  to  dise;:i>rge  theui  i  but,  looking  on  her  two 
sickly  ehildren,  she  believed  il  sent  by  heaven  for  their 
aid  and  preservation.  Hhe  »m;(  a  thousand  uses  for  the 
gift,  and  each  of  them  \N  as  sacred. 

Altaoiojit.  ^t/(mgh  r.  ciinded  of  his  mother's  trials, 
eouhl  wit'i  dll'Aculty  restrj'in  his  tears  ;  but  having  uiged 
his  req-usi  to  lu^ar  of  !vlf  hvi  JJeaehdale  fji-ncis  when 
Mrs.  SVoodvi'i^  shou!'"'  hv  s'  IiUmi  la  her  new  habivation, 
and  comuiitteU  Ids  address  to  the  pocket-book  (precious 


180  VAISIIfOTlE. 

depository  of  her  new  treasure.)  he  took  his  leave,  and 
returned  to  the  hotel  witli  his  heart  lightened  of  lialf  its 
carrs. 

He  was  preparing  to  reward  Yallancy  with  the  de- 
scription of  iSIrs.  Woodvillc's  raptures,  but  found,  to 
Ids  surprise,  that  he  was  leaving  London,  having  been 
summoned  to  attend  his  grandfatlier  by  a  special  mes- 
senger, who  had  followed  him  from  Beachdale.  **  I 
must  hurry  away,  my  friend,  aiid  have  only  time  to  beg 
you  to  present  this  trifling  token  of  remembrance  to 
your  mother,  (putting  into  his  hand  a  lai'ge  gold  snuff- 
box.) and  let  her  not  cease  to  remember  ber  hare-brain- 
ed Yallancy.  As  brief  parting,  like  a  quick  operation, 
is  the  best,  we  must  now  separate :  there  will  soon  be 
tides  between  us ;  but  remember,  as  tiiere  are  some 
things  you  cannot  forgive,  there  is  one  being  I  can  ncA^- 
er  forget.     Farewell." 

Witb  these  words  he  shook  hands  with  his  friend,  and 
hurried  away,  leaving  him  surprised,  but  not  displea- 
sed, at  his  abrupt  departure.  He  was.  indeed,  relieved 
by  his  absence,  since  it  gave  him  liberty  to  meditate  on 
Cordelia.  Willing,  however,  not  to  neglect  Ins  friend's 
memorial  to  his  mother,  he  took  up  the  snuff-box,  but 
found  it  fastened  by  a  secret  spring,  which  resisted  his 
efforts  to  open.  Accident,  in  this  case,  effected  more 
than  exertion.  Happening  to  let  tbe  box  fall,  the  spring 
was  touched  by  the  shock,  lie  saw  the  lid  open,  and  ini» 
mediately  <hew  out  an  elegant  gold  purse,  on  the  ribr, 
bon  appended  to  which  was  delicately  wrought  the  naw^ 
of  Sir  Frederic  Mowbray.  This  name  was  of  all  otiiers 
the  least  acceptable  to  xAltamont ;  but  fis  he  recollected 
to  have  seen  the  purse  in  Mrs.  De  Lille's  fingers,  he 
had  not  a  doubt  that  it  had  been  inclosed  in  the  box  by 
some  mistake  of  Valiancy,  whose  volatile  temper  render- 
ed him  perpetually  lialde  to  commit  such  bhrndej-s.  His 
immediate  impulse,  therefore,  was  to  restore  it  to  the 
right  owner ;  and  inclosing  it  in  a  blank  paper,  proper- 
ly directed,  he  imnudiatcly  took  it  to  Mrs.  Woodville, 
whose  wretched  lodging  was  not  far  from  tho.  hotel. 

In  this  second  brief  interview  he  reiterated  his  entrea- 


I 


TALSIIfOR?;.  ISl 

ties  that  she  should  write ;  and  she,  imputing  all  this 
solicitude  to  his  affectionate  interest  for  her  W'oodville, 
thanked  him  again  and  again ;  and,  happy  to  relieve 
her  grateful  heart,  by  performing  for  him  even  the  small- 
est service,  received  the  purse  with  mingled  pride  and 
joy,  promising  to  guard  this  secojul  deposit  with  no  less 
fidelity  than  that  to  which  she  owed  so  many  blessings. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

FOR  a  few  days  Beachdale  appeared  deserted.  Sir 
Frederic  thought  proper  to  absent  himself  from  Valian- 
cy House,  and  spent  that  interval  in  London,  whilst 
Mrs.  Gladwin  i-cturned  to  lier  friends  in  Cumberland. 
Dc  Lille  found  himself  in  an  aukward  predicament  iu 
providing  for  his  deceased  kinsman's  interment.  To 
avoid  the  mortification  of  making  a  public  acknowledg- 
ment of  their  consanguinity  at  Beachdale,  he  caused  his 
remains  to  be  removed  to  a  vdlage  fifteen  miles  distant, 
wliich  hapjiened  t<»  be  the  next  parish  to  the  lonely  house 
in  which  he  had  so  long  resided.  The  funeral  was  con- 
ducted witli  all  possible  privacy ;  but  now  a  second  dif- 
ficulty might  iiave  occurred  with  regard  to  mourning; 
happily,  however,  most  happily  as  he  thofight,  a  prince 
^f  the  blood  had  just  paid  the  debt  of  nature,  and  al- 
most the  meanest  subject,  from  the  poor  paralytic  in  her 
easy  chair  to  the  child  lisping  tlie  alphabet,  was  invest- 
ed with  the  sable  garb.  The  only  remaining  difficulty 
was  in  what  manner  to  behave  to  his  uncle's  widow,  who 
certaiidy  was  entitled  to  some  consideration  from  the 
family;  but  he  had  the  satisfaction  ♦<»  t^«ul  t!iat  V/inny 
prized  independence  far  beyond  such  an  biguous  honors. 
She  had  always  feared  Mrs.  De  Lille,  and  in  spite  of 
liis  friendly  professions,  harbored,  she  knew  not  hy, 
some  distrust  of  her  husband's  sincerity.  With  regafd 
to  the  discovery,  she  was  satisfied  that  it  was  purely  ac- 

Q 


18S  VALSINORE. 

cidental ;  and  her  husband  being  now  dead,  she  felt  fl« 
much  soflem-d  towards  liis  memory,  that  had  Altatijtmt 
been  rewarded,  and  Miss  Cclia  satisfieiU  slic  wouhl  not 
have  been  sorry  to  enrich  his  relations.  Two  circiim- 
stanees  consjared  to  render  her  thus  indulg;ent  j  thu  fii-st, 
that  Aleck,  who  secretly  liked  Mrs.  iiladwin  less  than 
any  human  being,  had  been  flattered  and  conciliatt  d  by 
the  De  Lilies;  the  second,  that  Cordelia  who,  from  the 
sweetness  of  her  nature,  always  lavished  endearing  at- 
tentions on  age  and  infirmity,  wjis,  in  her  eyes  (after 
Aleck,)  the  most  engaging  of  all  human  beings ;  and  the 
affection  irresistibly  inspired  by  the  daughter,  extorted 
some  complacency  for  the  father.  Then,  with  regard 
to  the  property,  slie  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  the 
shai'e  allotted  to  her ;  and  as  De  Lille,  anxious  for  his 
reputation  in  this  single  instance,  secured  her  interests 
in  the  estat(-,  the  conveyance  of  which  was  now  duly  ex- 
ecuted, she  seemed  much  richer  than  she  had  ventured 
to  be  whilst  the  money  was  locked  up  for  Altamont.  Nor 
was  she  insensible  to  the  privilege  of  being  able  to  hoard 
for  Aleck's  sake,  and  repeatedly  wished  Miss^  Celia 
eould  be  as  well  pleased  as  herself. 

In  the  meanwhile,  De  Lille  suggested  to  Alecks 
through  the  medium  of  Mr.  Quintin,  a  strong  desire  to 
visit  other  countries.  To  gratify  this  inclination,  it  was 
necLSsary  that  he  should  acquire  some  otlier  language 
than  latin  and  English  ',  and  to  facilitate  this  acquisition^ 
good  Mrs,  Winifred,  as  she  was  still  called,  consented 
to  leave  Beachdale,  to  which  she  had  conceived  a  super- 
«titiO'is  prejudice  since  her  husband's  death,  and  cheer- 
fully accompanied  him  to  London;  where,  resuming 
her  former  habits  of  activity,  she  officiated  as  his  house- 
keeper and  seamstress,  hoarding  for  his  sake,  and  de- 
dicating the  fruits  of  her  economy  to  his  future  good  ; 
jei  still  reserving  a  p<)rtion  for  her  dear  Miss  Celia; 
and  always  speculating  on  some  second  prize  which,  in 
the  revolutions  of  fortune's  wheel,  should  turn  up  fot 
Altf>.n»ont.  Aleck  was  the  object  of  her  tenderest  care, 
her  fiindest  hopes  ;  i»ut  hej'  heart  was  peculiarly  formed 
fur  gratitude  and  affection^  and  ebe  deeply  regretted 


VAXSiyORS.  18* 

that  her  beloved  benefactress  slioiild  liavc  been  so  erncl- 
ly  disaj»j)()iiited  on  tlie  veiA'  verge  of  onlVi-riii^-  In-iKTits 
and  enjuyincut  on  Altamoiit,  v.liose  nu'rits  wei-e  additi- 
onally apparent  from  his  invariable  attention  to  the  ob- 
ject of  her  own  fond  partiality. 

The  deseition  of  so  many  of  the  inliabitants  of  Beach- 
dale  threw  a  tem])orary  gloom  over  the  scene  ;  and  for 
ten  days  Valiancy  House  had  scarcely  any  other  visitor 
than  Mr.  Quintin ;  the  young  member  being  still  de- 
tained, much  against  his  will,  by  his  grandfather ;  and 
the  wary  Sir  Frederic  still  remaining,  for  the  sake  of 
decorum,  in  London.  On  his  i*eturn  to  the  Abbey,  he 
became  impatient  to  observe  hovv  Cordelia  bore  her  se- 
pai'ation  from  Altamont.  At  the  (list  glance,  she  ap- 
peared not  more  thoughtful  than  Adela,  who  certainly 
sighed  for  more  company ;  but  he  soon  discovered  in 
her  mild,  uncomplaining  look,  a  quiet,  unrepining  sor- 
row, a  placid  yet  settled  dejection.  She  affected  not  to 
tlecline  society  ;  she  continued  to  listen  with  complacen- 
cy, but  spoke  with  reluctance  ;  assersting  to  the  opini- 
ons of  her  companions  without  interest,  and  smiling  at 
their  spiightly  sallies  with«)ut  gladness.  Sir  Frederic's 
jealousy  was  now  envenomed  by  wo;;jided  pride  and  vin- 
dictive resentment :  and  to  undermine  this  absent  favor- 
ite in  her  esteem,  to  strike  at  the  very  roots  of  her  bi- 
goted attachment,  became  almost  as  much  the  object  of 
ambition  as  of  love.  But  whatever  hatred  he  might 
nourish  against  x\ltamont,  he  was  too  well  practised  in 
dujdicity  to  have  any  difficulty  in  disguising  his  senti- 
ments ;  and  artfully  contrived,  by  significant  looks  and 
half-i)roken  sentences,  to  insinuate  his  regrets  for  the 
past,  and  to  impress  her  with  the  beli'^f,  t'-at  he  did  jus- 
tice to  her  early  preceptor ;  but  he  was  once  indiscreet 
enough  to  speak  of  him  with  compassion. 

Cordelia's  cheeks  glowed  with  indignation,  as  she 
coolly  replied,  that  "  A  man  of  talents  ought  not  to  ex- 
cite pity,  but  admiration." 

<*  oil,  I  merely  mean  that  he  has  no  profession,  a 
aituatini  of  ?11  oihcrs  most  p^^rilous  to  a  young  man  of 
quick  parts  and  generous  feelings.*' 

Q2 


^i. 


184r  VALSINORE. 

"  He  is  not  too  old,  sir,  to  acquire  that  distinction.** 

Sir  Frederic  dropt  the  subject  with  the  unwelcome 
conviction,  that  this  was  no  ordinary  love,  no  evanescent 
impression  of  youth,  but  an  ardent,  enthusiastic  senti- 
ment. Yet  was  he  less  than  ever  disposed  to  renounce 
hope.  His  passion  w^as  irritated  by  opposition  j  and 
sometimes  he  was  so  much  provoked  to  find  how  little  be 
could  give  her  pleasure,  that  he  almost  wislied  for  tlie 
privilege  of  inflicting  pain.  The  return  of  Valiancy  re- 
stored gaiety  and  animation  to  Beachdale.  He,  at  first, 
so  far  resented  De  Lille's  conduct,  as  to  take  up  his 
quarters  at  the  Abbey  ;  but  the  representations  of  Sir 
Frederic,  and  \v!iat  was  more,  the  secret  influence  of 
Adela,  induced  him  to  forbear  noticing  the  duplicity  of 
De  Lirfe  ;  and  though  lie  no  longer  made  Valiancy  House 
his  home,  he  was  almost  its  constant  guest. 

At  first,  Adela,  who  had  hcen  unusually  serious  evep 
gince  Altamont's  departure,  and  whovse  gravity  some- 
times created  a  most  painful  sympathy  in  Cordelia,  ap- 
peared not  to  resume  her  animation ;  and  even  became 
more  serious  than  she  had  been  in  his  absence.  But  one 
<!ay,  following  Cordelia  into  her  favorite  retreat,  (the 
classical  pavilion,)  she  exclaimed  with  all  her  native 
gaiety,  "  Would  1  had  a  confessor,  in  you,  Cordelia." 

"  I  fancy  your  transgressions  are  of  no  very  serious 
nature ;  conscience  has  at  least  no  power  over  your 
smiles." 

('  No,  my  dear,  I  have  not  the  grace  to  feel  peni- 
tence. 1  have  sinned  because  I  was  a  woman ',  and  yet 
I  am  half  sorry  to  have  played  false  to  you." 

"  Played  false  to  me,  that  is  impossible !  What  can 
you  mean  ?" 

«  WHiy,  I  understand  from  my  trusty  Cerberus, 
Quintin,  that  Mis.  C*'lia  Gladwin,  that  nectar  cup  of 
conlirience,  the  cVsain  bearer  of  Cupijcl,  as  Valiancy  says, 
took  it  into  her  head  1  was  sighing  for  Altamont;  now 
I  do  really  and  vevil  v  believe  you  were  of  the  same  opin- 
ion. Nay,  now  1  ara  sure  you  did,  by  that  blusli,  so 
don't  he  honest  by  halves.  You  really  were  cheated  as 
much  as  Celia." 


tAlSINORE.  i;85 

«♦  If  I  had  not  perceived  your  attentions  to  liini  I  must 
have  heen  hood-winked." 

<*  Hood-winked  you  must  have  heen,  to  tliink  I  ca- 
red for  him  ;  do  you  tliink  I  wouhl  stoop  to  con(|uer  ? 
No,  the  excess  of  my  attention  was  the  first  symptom 
of  my  indifFcrcnce." 

"  1  perceive  you  do  indeed  want  a  confessor,  Adela 
hut  really  cannot  in  conscience  .e:ivc  yoti  ahsohition." 

»*  And  will  you  cnu'lly  piMsist  in  giving  that  vile  name 
of  coquetry  to  the  cliaiming  art  of  pleasing?  An  art, 
Cordelia,  so  Ihie,  so  elegant,  so  liberal,  and  ahovc  all, 
so  natural : — how  can  you  be  so  censorious  ?" 

**  Out  suppose  vou  should  have  endangered  his  tran- 
quillity ?''  "■  .,   /,v 

**  It  is  perfectly  impossible  :  he  is  too  dignifiewoRe  a 
lover;  as  Heatricc  says,  he  istoo  finef<ir  an  every-day 
suit,  and  slsould  only  he  worn  on  Sundays.  Not  hut  if 
one  was  pt ilVctly  at  hisure,  or  shut  np  with  him  in  a 
snow  stoi-m,  it  might  be  worth  while  to  try  how  far  such 
a  sublime  !)eing  was  penetrable. — Apropos,  Cordelia,  I 
have-a  most  important  question,  whether  it  is  moie  flat- 
tering to  make  sucli  a  man  look  silly,  or  a  gay,  volatile, 
airy  creatuiv,  grave  ? — Or  shall  I  put  it  in  more  learned 
terms,  to  dissolve  the  gold,  or  fix  the  quicksilver  ?  There'» 
a  problem  for  your  philosopliy.*' 

**  Tiiat  problem  you  ha\  e  alreadj'^  resolved,  by  ex- 
perimenting on  Altamont  and  Valiancy." 

**  Tliere  again,  you  arc  quite  mischievous  this  morn- 
ing.— What  has  a  question  of  philosophy  to  do  with  Val- 
iancy ?  Iha\en  knows  there  is  little  in  him;  he  is  all 
impulse  aiul  caprice ;  never  has  a  reason  to  act  on  | 
likes  or  dislikes,  he  knows  not  why,  and  cares  not 
wherefore  ;  angry  or  pleased  for  any  thing  or  nothing, 
just  as  fancy  sways  him;  and  for  his  talents,  thougli, 
to  be  sure,  he  is  not  stinted  by  nature,  he  stems  to  use 
them  as  the  old  Indians  did  their  gold,  merely  for  trink- 
ets and  baubles  to  play  with,  Oli,  he  has  a  legion  of 
fauKs,  it  would  require  more  arithmetic  than  1  am  mis-- 
tress  of  to  count  them.'* 

♦•  And  for  wliicb  of  them  do  you  like  hioi  best  V' 

4* 


186  VAISINOEE. 

«<  Pafienco  forl>id  T  sbould  like  him  for  any  of  them  ! 
"Why  I  have  hotn  i'siug  my  bc^st  endeavors  to  correct  tlie 
creature ;  imCt  leiiilv,  Cor(itlia.  \\  lien  we  set  up  for 
school-inistressc'S  lo  nun.  we  stand  greatly  in  need  of 
tliat  most  j)()lik-  ami  amial)!;'  of  arts,  wliicli  you  seem  to 
include  Avitl;  those  wicked  pT)n;ps  and  vanities  wliich  are 
renounced  ftr  us  l)y  our  G;od-motlicrs.*' 

"  Now,  1  know  you  are  so  kind  a  mistress,  I  am  not  | 
surprised  to  find  you  so  dutiful  a  disciple  ;  for  you  have 
surely  learnt  all  tlie  sophisms  of  your  Valiancy." 

«  Jly  Valiancy  !  mine  I  Do  you  think  1  include  him 
in  my  possessions  ?  No,  no,  he  will  never  he  appro- 
priated ;  he  has  always  one  foot  at  sea,  and  one  on 
shore. 

"  To  one  Ihiog  eonstoot  never." 

'•  And  here  he  is,  to  thank  you  for  the  compliment." 

**  And  pray,  ladies,"  asked  Valiancy ,^  "  is  yourconr 
lerence  ended  ?" 

«  Ended,  indeed!  No,  Sir,'*  retorted  Adela,  "  it 
is  not  even  begun  j  I  wonder  you  should  think  of  such 
intrusion." 

"  Oh,  I  perceive  the  secret  is  likety  to  be  bottled  up 
as  long  as  the  poor.DiaUe  Boiteux,  if  I  do  not  vigorously 
make  tiie  explosion." 

«  Mischievous  man,  beware  how  you  invade  our 
sanctuary."^ 

*<  Lady,  beware  how  you  profane  our  sanctuary.  The 
truth  is,  Cordelia,  she  has  used  you  ill ;  she  has  lately 
listened  to  a  tale  slie  kne\V*long  ago,  and  kept  every 
word  of  it  from  you." 

«  Cordelia,  don't  take  his  word."^ 

«  Cordelia,  take  the  evidence  of  your  own  senses  ; 
don't  you  see  how  like  we  are  to  two  reflecting  mirrors, 
er  two  hflrps  in  perfect  unison  ?  Every  thought  of  mine 
has  an  image  in  her  mind  ;  aye,  and  to  every  sentiment 
of  hers,  my  heart  returns  an  echo.  So  perfect  is  the 
sympathy,  I  am  only  afraid  that  some  day  or  other 
^Heaven  avert  it  long  J)  we  shall,  like  good  old  Baucis 
and  Philemon,  shoot  into  the  eartlj,  and  become  two  ten- 
isr  Aca«ias;  piping  to  U^q  wiude  together.'^ 

*  ■.*•»  '  "^a* 


VALSINORE.  187 

**  No,  you  will  never  be  stationary,  Valiancy,  you 
could  as  easiK  be  silent." 

"  Tberc  again,  how  admirably  we  barmonize ;  for 
like  two  partitioning  sovereigns,  we  divitie  the  realms 
of  speech  between  us." 

i*  «  Usurping  to  hims«*lf  noun,  pronoun,  verb,  partici- 
ple; and  leaving  tome  notlnng  but  a  poor,  melanclio- 
Jy,  monotinious  interjection  '" 

»*  1  ])rotcst  she  stole  that  thouglit  from  me,  yester- 
day ;  I  do  move,  that   whoever  steals   another's   ideas 
sliall,  at  least,  not  presume  to  mould  them  into  a  better        t?^ 
.shape."  ^    ', 

♦•  So  this  friend  of  freedom  would  extend  his  autlmri-     •    ■    -i^ 
ty  to  the  government  of  the  tongue  ;  dear  little   fi'an-  .  . ' 

chisc  !  nevei'  shall  it  part  from  its  chartei-ed  piiviicges  !"  '^\ 

"  Yet  it  is  never  heard,  but  it  might  be  convieted   of  , 

hribenj,  to  say  nothing  of  corruption.  Ask  her,  Corde- 
lia, wliich  of  my  faults  she  best  likes."  -i 

.«  I  have  already  put  this  question,  and   she   declines 
•an  answer." 

«  I  will  be  more  liberal  in  my  concessions, — I  love  her 
for  her  worst  faults  ;  her  constancy,  her  caprice,  and 
even  her  coquetry.  Stani])  but  lier  impression  on  the 
coin,  and  1  accept  it  as steiling  ;  and  yet  she  used  Alta- 
mont  ill }  he  must  be  of  an  asbestine  temperament  to  re- 
sist th(5  impression*  Head  I  been  so  flattered,  so  noti- 
ced—" 

*<  You  would  have  cared  for  mc  no  more  than  for  Ce- 
lia  Gladwin  ;  remember  your  prejudices,  your  perverse- 
ness,  your  inco^mstency,  and  be  silent.  Your  tyrannical 
sex,  by  y)ur  prohibitions,  compel  us  to  concealment,  and 
then  persecute  us  for  duplicity." 

«  Why,  yes.  Nature  has  made  women  to  revolve  in  a 
sphere  of  obliquity." 

«  Not  one  word  against  women  ;  Cordelia  has  put 
^  into  her  common- place  book,  a  sentence  from  an  anony- 
mous author  against  you  :  '  AVomen  are  the  only  beings 
who  have  not  been  degraded  by  slavery.  In  bondage, 
they  ai*e  not  sordid  ;  under  persecution,  they  are  still 
,  gcuerous  j  they  preserve  their  faith  to  the  faithless }  they 


188  VAtSlNORE, 

employ  kindness  to  soften  the  cruel  ;  in  sufferingv 
they  lose  not  benevolence  ;  in  tl»e  most  afflictive  trials, 
tliey  jxtssess  magnanimity  ;  tlieir  love  oi"  glory  is  found- 
ed on  sympathy  ;  excluded  fi-om  power,  privilege,  ajid 
distinction,  they  have  entlmsiasm  for  every  great  design, 
for  every  splendid  aeliievement ;  their  aftl  ctions  are  i)u- 
rified  from  selfislincss  ;  tliey  rejoice  in  diffusing  joy,  and 
are  grateful  for  blessings  in  which  they  are  not  allowed 
to  participate." 

*'  Upon  my  word,  they  must  be  fallen  angels  to  exist 
in  such  purgatory." 

*'  Viper-tongued  w  retch  !" 

"  Hush  !  softly,  and  I  will  for  once,  tboTigh  a  lover, 
confess  the  truth  :  woman  is  here  an  alien,  a  wanderer 
fronj  some  brigiiter  sphere ;  she  still  retains  the  im- 
pressions of  a  purer  nature  ;  she  has  idioms  of  truth  and 
goodness,  which  belong  to  a  better  order  of  brings  ;  her 
virtues  are  like  a  few  precious  pages  of  some  divine 
work,  redeemed  from  Hercnlaneum,  of  winch  the  origin- 
al is  lost.  The  felicity  to  which  slie  would  lead  ns,  she 
has  brought  us  with  her  from  a  purer  world  ;  it  is  a  soft, 
delicious  strain  ;  a  few  desultory,  delightful  notes,  be- 
longing to  a  melody  not  learned  oneartli ;  for  woman  is 
the  mock-bird  of  Pai-adise." 


CHAPTER   XXVI.  ^ 

THE  mutual  attachment  of  Adela  and  Valiancy  was 
not  immediately  discovered  to  Mrs.  De  Lille,  whose  ex- 
treme solicitude  f  )r  this  favorite  object,  naturally  occa- 
sioned a  diffidence  of  its  accomplishment.  The  anxiety 
she  still  betrayed  was  frequently  a  source  of  amusement 
to  iier  mischievous  son,  in  wl|©m  even  love  did  not  al- 
ways supply  the  place  (I"  rainery.  In  the  mean  w  hilcy 
he  was  surprised  at  Altamont*s  silence  ;  at  another  time 
he  might  have  been  tiaeasy,  but  now  he  was  so  agree*- 


VALSINORE,  ±^ 

bly  occupied,  that  he  had  not  leisure  to  reflect  on  the  cir- 
cumstance. 

One  evening,  on  rcturniuc;  to  the  Abbey,  from  which 
he  had  been  absent  the  w  hoU^  day,  in  a  pleas;int  excur- 
sion with  thela<lies,  he  was  surprised  by  Sir  Frederic 
putting  into  !iis  hand  a  bill  of  exchange  on  a  Paris  bank- 
er, which  had  been  concealed  in  the  g(dd  purse,  return- 
ed by  Altamont.  This  purse  he  had  stolen  from  his 
mother  in  a  playful  mood,  intending  to  restore  it  indue 
time  to  the  right  owner.  He  forgot  to  execute  these 
righteous  intentions,  and  the  purse  i-emamed  in  the  pock- 
et-book till  he  accompanied  Altamont  to  London,  w!ien 
he  slipped  into  it  the  bill  he  had  just  procured  for  his 
friend's  use  ;  and  introducing  both  into  the  S!jutF-bux, 
was  jiersuaded  he  had  found  an  infallible  expedient  for 
forcing  his  gratuity  on  his  friend's  acee])tance. 

That  Altamont  should  have  been  either  shocked  or 
offended  by  the  discovery  of  Sir  Frederic's  name,  had 
never  entered  into  his  calculation  ;  and  he  was  therefore 
equally  surprised  and  mortified  to  have  his  fiee-will 
offering  so  contemptuously  rejected.  Sir  Frederic  had  a 
malicious  satisfaction  in  observing  the  displeasure,  which 
was  but  too  visible  in  his  countenance  ;  he  had  this 
day  received  a  visit  frotn  Mrs.  Woodville,  who,  two  days 
after  her  interview  with  Altamont,  received  an  invitation 
from  a  pei-son  whose  childicn  had  l)een  formerly  in- 
structed by  her  husband,  to  spend  a  few  weeks  at  a  vil- 
lage about^  fifteen  nnles  distant  from  Beach(hde,  This 
alteration  ni  lier  plans  did  not  prevent  her  executing 
Altamont's  commissi(m,  and  she  had  thankfully  accept- 
ed the  accommodation  of  a  one-horse  elmisc,  to  convey 
her  to  St.  Quintin's  Abbey,  wh^re  learning  from  Sir 
Frederic  that  Miss.  De  Lille  was  from  home,  slje  sur- 
rendered her  letter  to  his  care  ;  natii rally  imagir.ing  it 
was  safer  with  him  than  with  the  servants  of  Valiancy 
House. 

Sir  Frederic,  whose  curiosity  had  been  strongly  ex- 
cited by  !ier  appearance,  employed  all  his  address  to 
discover  her  situation  -,  and,  under  the  pretence  of  hav- 
ing some  communication  to  make  on  the  subject  of  their 


490  Y.VXSINORB. 

muttial  friend,  Mr.  Altamont,  requestpd  her  permissioH 
to  call  on  her  during  her  visit  in  the  neighborhood. 
Mrs.  Woodville  was  embarrassed  by  attentions,  she  at- 
tributed to  !iis  ignorance  of  her  humble  station,  and  with- 
out relating  her  history,  communicated  enough  to  make 
him  sensible  of  her  indigence.  His  attentions  were 
now  redoubled,  and  she  at  length  loft  him,  penetrated 
with  gratitude  for  that  respect,  which,  to  the  unfortunate, 
always  seems  frauglit  with  sympatiiy.  He  easily  guess- 
ed that  the  draft  would  excite  irritable  feelings  in  the 
impetuous  V  allancy  ;  nor  was  he  disajipointed  in  his  ex- 
pectation ;  he  instantly  pronounced  a  })liili])pic  on  petu- 
lence  and  pride,  and  finally  begged  nothing  more  might 
be  said  on  the  subject.  Sir  Frederic  easily  acquiesced 
in  the  charge  of  secrecy,  and  then  considered  in  what 
manner  to  dispose  of  the  letter  so  unexpictodly  ]uit  into 
his  possession.  Though  hacknied  in  duplicity,  he  still 
revolted  from  violating  the  seal  committed  to  his  trust, 
and  long  held  the  billet  in  his  hand  with  a  wavering 
purpose  i  at  length  the  wax  was  bent,  the  last  post  of 
honor  surrendered.  Poorly,  however,  was  this  treache- 
ry repaid,  for  the  billet  contained  only  the  following 
lines  : 

"  I  feel  I  sliall  not  need  to  apologize  to  Cordelia  for 
introducing  to  her  Mrs.  Woodville,  the  wife  of  one  of 
my  earliest  and  most  valued  friends.  To  say  she  is  un- 
fortunate is,  1  well  know,  giving  her  the  strongest  claim 
on  your  kindness  ;  she  is  going  to  spend  some  time  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Bcaehdale,  and  in  my  mind*s  eye  I 
shall  foiiovv  her  to  that  dearest  spot  on  earth.  She  has 
promised  to  write  to  me  from  thence,  and  may  perhaps 
encourage  me  to  hope  that  the  unwilling  exile  is  not 
wholly  forgotten.  Remember  there  is  but  one  thing 
that  can  render  him  an  alien  to  his  country  and  ymirs. 
H.  A. —  I  forgot  to  tell  you  tlie  maiuiscript  of  Corne- 
lius is  left  in  the  jn'ivate  diawer  f)f  the  bureau  in  my  a- 
partment ;  it  is  committed  to  your  care  ;  you  will  find  in 
it  asolusion  of  his  mysterions  benevolence." 

Sir  Frederic  read  this  letter  till  every  word  was  stamp* 
on  his  remembrance.    At  first  he  detected  in  it  little  to 


VAISINOKX.  i9i' 

inflame  Ijis  jealousy ;  it  was  obvious  that  the  writer  was 
neitiiCM- sanguine  nor  prosuniptunus.  But,  on  a  le-poru- 
sal.  he  was  irritated  by  the  insinuation  of  that  only  cir- 
cumstance wiiich  might  render  him  an  alien  to  liis  coun- 
try ;  he  blessed  the  chance  wliieh  prevented  Mrs.  Wood- 
ville  from  attaining  an  interview  with  Cordelia  ;  lie 
found  his  own  inquietude  augmented,  and  dertermined 
to  double  his  former  vigilance  and  circumspection.  Yet 
he  felt  degraded  in  his  ovvn  eyes  by  the  total  dereliction 
of  h'lnnr ;  he  did  not  even  venture  to  pay  his  accus- 
tomed visit  to  Valiancy  House  in  the  morning, — he  de- 
feriid  it  Jill  the  evening,  and  then  entered  under  the 
protection  of  twilight.  MissUouvigny  rallied  liim  on 
his  relish  for  obscurity  i  but  as  Cordelia  enquired  for 
liis  health  with  moi-e  than  usual  interest,  he  was  satisfied. 
All  his  scruples  were  silenced ;  all  his  regrets  dismissed  ; 
the  monienlarx  compunction  served  only  to  increase  his 
hatred  to  Altamont. 

Amo)ig  all  the  changes  incident  to  human  destiny, 
there  i{5  nothing  so  melancholy  as  the  mutability  of 
the  affe.  tions.  The  nn>st  trivial  accident,  a  word  mis- 
eppiivd,  a  look  misconstrued,  an  omission  the  heart 
disclaimed,  shall  often  intcj'pose  between  anient  friends, 
and  sunder  what  had  seemed  to  be  a  ri vetted  attachment. 
Valiancy  was  offended  by  the  supposed  repulse  of  kijid- 
ness;  and  when  he  received  a  fr\>  short  lines  fi-om  Al- 
taniont,  merely  announcing  liis  aiiival,  and  that  Mr. 
Bi '  ce  was  still  living,  he  was  more  pffended  still.  Not 
one  word  of  acknowledgment  or  explanation  }  his  impa- 
tient sj)irit  cojild  ill  brook  disdain :  and  he  determined 
to  be  in  no  haste  to  sen?'  an  ansM'-r  to  so  laconic  an 
epistle.  lie  persevered  iit  this  resolution  so  h)ng,  that 
he  missed  the  opportunit;.  of  sending  a  reply  to  Geneva. 

Mr.  Bruce  was  suftltiently  recovered  to  remove,  and 
attended  by  his  wife  smd  Aitanifnl,  proceeded  to  the 
German  Spa.  Valiancy  learnt  tiiis  intelligence  from 
Sii  FiTdcric,  who  had  paid  his  promised  visit  to  Mi's. 
"Woddville,  to  whom  Altiunont  had  written,  to  apprize 
her  of  the  change,  uu'l  to  request  slie  would  tr<insmit 
to  him  immediately  \n  hatever  she  had  to  communicate  of 


192  YALSINORE. 

Beaclulale.  Valiancy  was  ready  to  ask,  why  he  had 
not  deigned  to  give  him  tlie  same  notification.  Aeain 
impatience  rendei-ed  him  unjust.  Altamont  had  written 
under  cover  to  Lord  Marmitcm,  with  whom  the  letter 
was  detained  so  long,  tljat  it  was  not  probahle  an  an- 
swer would  reach  him  at  Spa.  Valiancy,  however, 
sullenly  acquitted  iilmself  of  this  epistolary  debt,  and  no 
subsequent  demand  was  made  on  his  correspondence. 
In  his  confidential  conversations  with  Miss  Rouvigny, 
he  would  sometimes  speak  with  asperity  of  his  friend's 
intf  actable  spirit.  He  once  mentioned  Mrs.  Woodville 
as  his  protegee,  and  on  being  pressed  for  explanation, 
hastily  changed  the  subject,  ni'M'ely  because  he  was  un- 
willing to  make  the  avowal  of  his  own  liberality.  His  fair 
companion  instantly  concluded,  that  more  was  meant 
than  met  the  ear ;  and,  as  she  had  tho  weakness  to  v,  ish 
her  lover  to  liave  no  intimate  of  the  other  sex,  she  was 
unconsciously  disposed,  by  this  sentiment,  to  cherish 
any  impr.-ssions  to  the  prejudice  of  Altamont.  Whate- 
ver she  thought,  she  in.parf«'d  to  Cord*"lia  in  their  late 
nocturnal  conference  s,  and  certainly  hazarded  some  sur- 
mises of  n »  charitable  nature,  of  Mrs.  Woodville  and 
her  suppnsei!  protector. 

Cordelia  repehid  the  insinuation  with  a  fervor  which 
excited  in  Adela  some  suspicion  of  her  attachment.  Hi- 
therto she  had  fancied  her  heart  impregnable  to  love, 
and  S'HoetinN's  rvi.-;retted  there  was,  on  tliis  point,  so 
little  8}  nripathy  between  them  ;  biit  now  she  became 
alar!VK-d  for  the  conwqiences  of  s'.;c!i  an  imprudent 
■choice,  and  heartily  wislied,  f  r  Cord  lia's  sake,  to  per- 
suade her  tliat  Alrainont  was  unwovthy  of  her  alfection. 
She  was  perhajjs  pi.jued  at  h-'r  r''i.'n(!'s  obstinate  con- 
cealment. ;.ike  Valiancy,  she  d<  niandcd  an  unrestrict- 
ed interchange  of  tJ*  >ijght  an.l  sentiment,  without  re- 
flecting tliat  if  hvr  sursaisis  were  just,  the  h  -stility  she 
ha(i  HViiwcd  fv-r  Ahamon^  must  exclude  her  from  Corde- 
lia's confidooce.  Cordflia  felt  she  was  alone  ;  and  since 
noon''  did  justice  to  AHaoiont  his  name  was  banished 
from  hf  r  lips,  though  his  image  was  ever  present  to  her 
thoughts. 


VALSiriORE.  ±9$ 

This  mental  reservation,  without  producing  apparent 
abstraction,  rendered  her  indiffei-ent  to  society.  To 
lierself  it  seemed  that  her  sensibilities  were  blunted, 
since  slie  now  road,  witliout  emotion,  tlic  passages  by 
whicli  she  had  been  most  deeply  aftccted.  Yet,  in  other 
instances,  they  were  more  exquisite.  At  the  name  of 
alien  or  exile,  she  was  ready  to  weep ;  if  she  heard  of 
Switzerland,  she  was  revisited  by  sensations  of  pleasure ; 
to  speak  of  it  was  a  still  dearer  privilege. 

Tins  depression  was  not  solely  owing  to  concealed 
love ;  it  was  in  part  produced  by  the  apprehension  of 
her  father's  disingenuous  conduct.  If  the  parent  is 
bumbled  by  the  unworthy  child,  the  child  feels  also 
equally  degraded  by  the  disiionorable  parent.  Cordelia 
now  always  trembled  at  her  father's  apjJViJHch,  the  sound 
of  his  voice  was  painful,  she  distrusted  all  his  ju'ofessi- 
ons,  and  wislied  to  remain  blind  to  his  movements.  Tiie 
conscious  De  Lille  was  not  slow  to  perceive  what  was 
passing  in  her  mind  ;  and,  as  one  act  of  injustice  inev- 
itably leads  to  another,  he  conceived  for  Altamont,  to 
wimm  he  imputed  this  esti-angoment,  a  hati-cd  equally 
fervent  with  Sir  Frederic's  jealousy. 

One  day  he  was  so  n»uch  provoked  by  witnessing  her 
dejection,  that  he  vented  his  spleen  in  poignant  satire  on 
Mrs.  Gladwin's  male  prots'^ee.  Cordelia  was  too  much 
hurt  to  offer  any  reply,  and  taking  refuge  in  her  own 
reflections,  walked  into  the  park,  where  she  was  sur- 
prised in  tears  by  Sir  Frederic  Mowbray,  who,  in  his 
most  persuasive  accent,  entreated  he  might  participate 
in  her  sorrows,  Cordelia  hastily  replied,  she  disclaim- 
ed commiseration  for  the  weakness  she  sought  to  combat ; 
adding,  "  I  trust  I  as  little  need  a  confident  as  a  con- 
fessor." She  then  changed  the  subject,  and  Sir  Freder- 
ic presumed  not  to  press  farther ;  but,  perceiving  she 
was  deeply  affected,  he  instantly  went  to  De  Lille,  cx- 
torte«l  an  avowal  of  ail  that  had  jiassed,  and  having 
convinced  him  of  his  error,  finalh  ot)tained  a  promise 
that  he  wouhi  i  ever  again  mention  Altamont  in  ierms  of 
ridicule  or  reproach,  never  by  word  or  look  convey  an 

R 


194  Valsinore. 

insinuation  of  contempt,  by  which  he  could  not  fail  t» 
be  endeared  to  the  generous  Cordelia. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

WITHIN  three  months  after  De  Lille*s  accession  of 
fortune,  he  was,  for  some  real  or  imaginai-y  services, 
advanced  to  the  dignity  of  knighthood.  Whether  this 
elevation  was  owing  to  Lord  Marmiton,  or  Sir  Freder- 
ic, is  perhaps  not  very  material ;  by  whatever  means 
obtained,  it  was  highly  acceptable  to  Sir  Jaspar  and  his 
^.ady,  who  prepared  on  this  occasion  to  accom])any  her 
niece  to  London,  and  once  more  make  her  appearance 
at  St.  James's. 

To  complete  her  satisfaction,  she  was  now  assured 
that  her  fondest  wishes  were  realized  in  the  reciprocal 
affection  of  her  son  and  Miss  Rouvigny  ;  and  in  this  hap- 
py moment  appeared  to  think  herself  absolved  for  her 
former  trespass  against  the  canons  of  prudence  and  pro- 
priety, and  sudderdy  to  liave  resumed  pretensions  to 
dignity  and  importance.  So  completely  was  she  exhil- 
irated  by  her  new  hopes,  that  she  seemed  to  have  cast 
off  the  native  suspicion  of  lier  soul,  and  to  overflow  with 
kiiH^'uess  and  confidence  to  all  human  beings.  This  hap- 
py change  \\as  prelusive  to  a  more  awful  revolution  of 
nature.  She  had  lived  a  week  in  perfect  harmony  with 
her  h'.isband,  and,  for  the  first  time  since  her  marriage, 
had  shewn  affection  to  Cordelia ;  when,  one  evening, 
just  as  she  liad  been  speculating  on  her  approaching  vis- 
it to  the  metropolis,  and  speaking  with  some  compla- 
cency of  her  intended  restoration  to  court,  she  was  sei- 
zed with  a  chil!,  the  forennmcr  of  a  violent  fever,  which 
in  one  fortnight  terminated  her  existence. 

In  the  early  part  of  her  illness,  she-vexacted  from  Miss 
Rouvigny  a  promise,  that  she  would  abridge  her  son's 


YAISINORE. 


1^5 


probation,  by  bocominej  bis  M'ife  as  soon  as  she  shoiilrl 
have  seen  lier  next  bii(,Ii-(lay.  Witb  tbis  promise  she 
was  so  well  satisfied,  tbat  she  appeared  to  leave  life  witli 
a  t^ratcfiil  sense  of  enjoyment.  Newspapers  announced 
hei*  busband's  gi-ief ;  tbe  sculj>tor  attested  bis  grateful 
commemoration  of  her  exalted  virtues  :  all  tbis  migbt 
be  venal,  but  there  were  some  real  mourners,  who  fol- 
lowed to  ber  grave.  Valiancy  recalled,  with  deep,  be- 
cause unavailing,  regret,  bis  former  levity  and  cajjricc. 
Even  Adela  liad  some  compunction  for  having  so  latel;'" 
cons|)ired  with  bim,  to  witbbobl  IVoni  ber  tiie  assuran- 
ces which  were  so  essential  to  her  tranquillity.  Corde- 
lia grieved  that  she  should  be  snatched  from  tbe  world, 
■when  she  seemed  most  to  enjoy  it.  But  Quintin  missed 
her  most ;  be  strenuously  maintained  she  was  a  pattern 
for  ber  sex ;  the  only  surviving  model  of  female  elegance 
and  propriety. 

In  consequence  of  tliis  melancholy  event,  Mrs.  Riv- 
ers, with  whom  Miss  Rouvigny  and  Cordelia  bad  pre- 
viously engaged  to  spend  the  winter,  kindly  came  to 
Beachdale,  to  condole  with  the  mourners,  and  to  claim 
their  immediate  presence  at  her  house  in  Berkeley- 
square.  Cordelia  wotdd  have  preferi'cd  remaining  in 
the  country  ;  but  if  she  could  have  resisted  ber  friend's 
entreaties,  she  would  not  oppose  iier  father's  commands. 
De  Lille  had  lately  treated  her  witli  much  more  aftection  ; 
\  Ins  vanity  was  gratified  by  tbe  prospect  of  Sir  Freder- 
ic's alliance ;  and  to  win  his  daughter's  consent,  be  now 
lavished  every  partial  attention,  and  promised  the  most 
tender  indulgence.  He  concurred  with  ber  lover  in 
wishing  to  draw  ber  from  a  scene  of  retirement,  where 
she  bad  too  much  leisure  to  muse  on  Altamont;  but  an 
incident  occurred  previous  to  her  leaving  Beachdale, 
which  counteracted  the  salutary  effects  be  migbt  have 
expected,  from  the  change  of  scene,  and  strongly  con- 
I  firmed  ber  attachment. 

One  day.  in  searching  for  something  in  the  bureau 
which  stood  in  Altamont's  apartment,  she  aceidcntly 
opened  the  private  drawer  in  which  was  deposited  the 
legend  of  Cornelius.    At  first,  she  was  ready  to  con- 

R2 


196  VAXSINORE. 

elude  that  the  manuscript  had  been  left  by  accident,  but 
she  read  on  the  envelope  these  words,  •<  To  the  care  and 
perusal  of  Cordelia  j*'  and,  simple  as  tliey  were,  they 
touched  Cordelia  to  the  soul.  They  seemed  to  intimate 
that  the  manuscript  was  bequeathed  to  her  care,  and 
that  its  owner  would  never  return  to  i-eclaim  the  trust. 
At  another  time,  she  might  have  resisted  the  impression  5 
butli^re,  in  this  house  of  death,  slu^  found  it  invincible, 
and  slie  touched  the  paper  as  a  relique  of  one  she  should 
see  no  more,  but  whom  she  secretly  promised  to  love 
forever. 

And  now  she  slowly  went  over  the  first  part  of  the 
»arrative  ;  slowly,  that  she  might  read  each  line,  each 
word,  as  read  by  Altamont.  When  she  came  to  the  di- 
vision in  the  manuscript,  she  shed  torrents  of  tears ;  but 
they  no  longer  flowed  for  Cornelius.  At  length,  having 
regained  composure,  she  proceeded  with  the  reeom- 
mencement  of  the  narrative,  the  writing  of  which  ap- 
peared much  more  recent. 

Sequel  of  the  Fragment 

"  From  the  moment  that  I  anticipated  the  title  of  a 
parent,  I  reflected  with  extreme  i)ain  on  the  infatuation 
which  had  prompted  me  to  renounce  the  privileges  of  a 
Briton.  I  had  insensibly  imbibed  my  wife's  sentiments 
on  tltis  subject,  and  was  equally  anxious  with  herself, 
that  our  children  should  receive  their  first  impressions 
from  a  peo])le  not  unacquainted  with  civil  and  religious 
liberty.  We  determined,  therefore,  to  remove  to  some 
English  settlement,  where  they  would  at  least  be  famili- 
ar with  the  language  of  our  native  country.  To  effect ' 
this  object,  we  embarked  for  the  Havanna,  from  thencs 
proceeded  to  Florida ;  and  finally  .settled  in  Albany,  on 
the  frontier  of  Canada.  I  here  purcliased,  under  the 
fictitious  name  I  had  assumed  at  Madeira,  a  small  es- 
tate, which  at  once  gave  me  occupation  and  independ- 
ence. Our  habitation,  though  not  elegant,  was  com- 
modious. I  at  first  regretted  those  delicious  scenes  in 
which  we  had  almost  exhausted  felicity  j  but  the  pre- 


.0 


VAISINOHB.  197 

scnce  of  Susanna  reconciled  mc  to  the  less  genial  aspect  , 
of  the  new  W')rl(l;  and  the  projecting  slated  roof,  under  ' 
which  my  son  received  his  hirth,  was  dearer  in  my  eyes 
tlnm  the  house  of  my  fathers.  Yet  never  was  the  mem- 
ory of  those  venerable  ancestors  cherished  with  such 
fond  enthusiasm,  as  when  I  first  felt  the  beatings  of  his 
innocent  heart,  and  folded  in  my  arms  the  fragileWittlo 
being,  by  whom  I  trusted  my  name  should  be  transHiitted 
to  posterity.  <jrV 

My   ambition   was  not  extinguished,  and  in  giving  f 

him  the  patrimonial  name  of  Reginald,  I  indulged  the 
flattering  presage,  that  he  at  least  was  destined  to  pos- 
sess that  rank,  in  society  fiom  which  I  seemed  fon^r 
excluded.  The  splendid  phantoms  which  had  so  loiig 
floated  in  imagination,  now  found  a  stationary  point  iii^H^ 
the  new  object  of  my  affections ;  and  even  whilst  I  saw 
liiui  slumbering  on  liis  mother's  bosom,  I  was  occupied 
in  suggesting  plans  for  his  future  aggrandizement.  I 
iniparled  not  all  these  speculations  to  Susanna,  who, 
descending  with  dignified  liumility  to  her  present  stati- 
on, ai)p;>ared  to  have  acquired  a  relisli  for  its  homely 
duties,  and  even  to  have  forgotten  the  rank  and  ele- 
gance she  had  frankly  relinquished.  Slic  exerted  all 
lier  eloquence  to  persuade  me,  that  since  her  hrotlier, 
to  whom  she  had  twice  written  since  her  departure  from 
England,  was  still  implacable  in  his  resentment,  it  was 
better  tliat  the  Atlantic  should  roll  between  us ;  but  in 
this  single  instance  her  influence  was  unavailing;  ami 
before  Reginald  could  articulate  the  name  of  Britain,  I 

Ihad  determined  he  should  receive  his  education  in  Eu- 
rope. 

«  For  the  first  ten  years,  indeed,  I  believed  I  should 
myself  be  fully  comi>etent  to  his  instructioij.  1  had  for- 
tunately made  a  valuable  addition  to  the  few  classical 
books  we  had  brought  from  Lisbon,  by  the  purchiise  of 

Ian  English  library,  the  collector  of  which  (a  new  set- 
tler) had  died  within  six  months  of  my  arrival  in  tho 
country.  With  such  a  resource  for  oui*  hours  of  leisjire, 
♦  ho  winters  proved  not  tedious  ;  and,  though  too  reuiote 
iVom  the  town  of  Albany  to  have  any  iuteicourse  witli  its 

R3 


198  YAlSINOBE. 

inhabitants,  we  bad  no  regrets  for  the  absence  of  society, 

"  The  only  distiiibance  to  our  tranquillity  arose  from 
tlie  occasional  incursions  of  the  Indian  tribes,  who,  whe- 
ther they  esjjouscd  tlie  interest  of  the  British  colonies,  m 
or  of  their  Canadian  neighbors,  were  almost  constantly  II 
engaged  in  petty  warfare  with  each  other.  In  the  tiiird 
year  of  our  residence,  my  wife  blessed  nie  with  a  daugh- 
ter j  but  the  period  of  her  birth  was  connected  with  an 
event  which  produced  the  firet  cloud  to  the  felicity  of  our 
liamonious  union. 

«  My  wife  had  humanely  taken  under  her  protecti'm 
a  young  Indian  female,  the  widow  of  a  Jrencli  scbaer 
wIm)  had  been  killed  during  the  late  season  of  hostili- 
ties. Her  kindness  was  repaid  with  gratitude  and  at- 
tachment. Slie  became  our  son's  nurse  ;  received  reli- 
gious instructions  with  apparent  docility  ;  and  in  all 
^  respects  behaved  with  such  propriety,  as  not  to  leave  tlie 
smallest  reason  for  suspecting  her  fidelity.  It  is  not 
•probable  tiiat  this  woman  would  have  betrayed  her  trust, 
but  for  the  temptation  of  returning  to  her  own  people  j 
and  such  was  her  fondness  for  my  son,  that  she  deter- 
mined he  should  be  the  companion  of  her  flight, 

*'  Her  plan  was  so  well  concerted,  that  we  were  for 
some  time  led  to  suppose  they  had  both  been  surprised 
and  forcibly  carried  into  captivity.  Such  incidents  were 
of  no  rare  occurrence,  and  at  first  appeared  to  be  the 
only  probable  conjecture ;  but  by  the  indefatigable  zeal 
of  another  Indian,  who  was  really  honorable  and  faith- 
ful, we  at  length  ascertained  that  they  were  both  living 
among  the  Hurons  in  perfect  safety. 

**  On  this  discovery,  a  formal  application  was  made  to 
ihe  French  governor  of  Montreal ;  and  after  many  tedi- 
iDUs  and  difficult  delays,  we  at  Fength  obtained  his  I'csto- 
ration.  During  this  interval  several  years  had  elap- 
sed ;  his  parents  were  totally  obliterated  from  his  mem- 
ory J  his  native  language  was  forgotten ;  he  had  been 
dragged  by  force  from  his  Indian  mother  i  and  was  so 
much  altered,  that  but  for  a  natural  mark  on  his  forehead, 
^e  should  have  found  it  diiti«ult  to  believe^  that  the  tall^^ 


VAXSINORE.  199 

grave,  taciturn  boy  before  us,  was  indeed  our  own  Regi- 
nald. 

*«  At  the  first  glance  I  revolted  from  liis  picturesque 
Indian  garb,  and  passionately  exclainied,  *  I  could  not 
own  him  till  he  was  drest  like  a  native  of  Europe.' 
The  change  of  attire  produced  not  the  transformation 
1  expected;  his  countenance  still  bore  a  resemblance  to 
that  of  his  treacherous,  but  beloved  nurse  ;  he  submitted 
to  our  customs  with  reluctance:  he  replied  not  to  our 
endearments  ;  he  was  oflVnded  by  his  sistei''s  caresses  ; 
and  thougli  already  imbued  with  the  fortitude  peculiar 
to  his  adopted  poople,  could  not  always  suppress  his  se- 
cret grief,  I  was,  however,  still  willing  to  persuade  my- 
self that  much  of  his  estrangement  was  occasic^ned  by 
ignorance  of  our  language,  and  that  this  obstacle  being 
once  surmounted,  he  would  become  more  suseei)tible  of 
kindness  and  attachment.  How  eagerly  did  I  catch  ev- 
ery English  plirase  that  droptfrom  his  lips  '  his  moV 
ther,  too,  watched  their  motions, .  t  from  a  far  differ- 
ent impulse.  She  longed  to  hear  him  express  his  wants 
and  signify  his  wishes.  It  w  as  a  solace  to  her  maternal 
tenderness,  to  make  him  sensible  of  her  solicitude  to  give 
him  pleasure.  By  degrees  he  acquired  our  language, 
but  his  reserve  was  scarcely  diminished ;  he  had  no 
childish  gaiety  j  he  recoiled  from  an  European  play- 
mate ;  he  disliked  our  modes  and  habits  of  life.  To 
entice  him  to  study,  seemed  at  first  impossible  ;  betook 
no  interest  in  sedentary  pursuits,  or  domestic  pleasures  j 
his  spirits  flagged,  even  his  health  deeliricd ;  under 
the  patei'ual  roof  he  languished  in  hopeless  captivity. 

**  His  mother  was  at  infinite  pains  to  instruct  him  in 
the  Christian  religion  :  but  he  cotdd  not  listen  to  th**  di- 
vine precept  which  enjoins  forgiveness,  without  contempt 
and  disgust.  Any  effort  to  excite  in  him  a  liberal  aui^ 
bition,  proved  equally  unsuccessful.  If  1  related  a  trait 
of  history,  he  distrusted  its  truth  ;  if  I  tried  to  win  hi^ 
attention  to  poetry,  he  was  incapable  of  transferring  its 
imagery  to  his  own  uncultivated  mind.  Aritlmietic  pleas- 
ed him  most,  though  it  cost  him  such  intense  lahmv  as 
always  to  occasion  stupor  j  yet  was  uot  this  indifference 


200  VAISIXOEE. 

the  result  of  natural  insensibility.  I  once  took  him  witli 
nic  on  the  lake,  in  a  fea^eajtequipt  in  the  Indian  style  : 
for  the  first  time  I  saw  his  fine  features  ;  and  as  we  ad- 
vanced toward  the  woods,  he  was  all  life,  soul,  and  ac- 
tivity. On  our  turning  back,  his  eys  filled  with  tears  ; 
he  gazed  on  the  country  he  had  left,  till  it  sunk  fiom 
his  view,  but  no  murmur  escaped  his  lips.  Touched  by 
his  resignation,  1  would  have  made  any  sacrifice  for  his 
happiness  but  that  of  seeing  him  a  savage.  I  once  said 
with  my  natural  vehemence,  <  I  was  a  i*ebel  to  my  fa- 
ther's house,  and  my  son  will  be  a  deserter.*  I  knew 
not  that  he  was  listening  ;  but  a  sudden  tinge  of  red  in  his 
cheeks  convinced  me  lie  had  heard  those  words,  and  un- 
derstood their  meaning.  My  wife  gently  ciiecked  my* 
impatience,  an<l  proposed  that  we  should  no  longer  per- 
secute him  \A  ith  books  ;  but  trust  to  time,  and  the  latent 
spirit  of  emulation  within  him,  for  his  future  improve- 
ment. I  desisted,  and  despaired ;  but  suddenly  a  revo- 
lution was  effected  in  his  character.  He  had  been  se- 
verely ill,  and  during  his  confinement,  became  sensible 
to  our  affections  ;  his  sister  read  to  him,  and  he  pres- 
ently chose  to  read  for  himself.  His  mother  observed 
that  he  pursued,  by  stealth,  those  studies  to  wliieli  I  had 
so  long  urged  him  in  vain ;  but  she  w  as  careful  to  con- 
ceal from  me  this  circumstance,  hoping,  on  some  future 
occasion,  to  enhance  my  pleasure  by  the  surprise  of  dis- 
covery. 

«  One  evening,  as  I  pensively  approached  our  parlor, 
I  was  struck  with  the  sound  of  a  deep  sonorous  voice,  in 
the  exercise  of  poetical  recitation.  I  listened  at  the 
door,  and  was  soon  convinced  that  the  exclaimer  was  no 
other  than  Reginald  ;  his  sister  was  his  only  auditress  ; 
he  had  himselfchosen  the  subject,  which  was  from  Pope's 
Pvohsgue  t'>  Cato.  He  pronounced,  with  an  emphasis 
that  electrified  my  soul,  the  line, 

"  And  honored  Csesar's,  less  than  Cato's  sword." 

"  At  this  moment,  Susanna  surprised  me,  almost  lost 
in  rapturous  amazement.    1  could  hold  no  longer,  but 


VALSINORE.  201 

rushing  into  the  room,  embraced  my  son  with  trans- 
ports of  joy  and  tenderness.  His  niothi'r  wept  with  de- 
ligiit  j  we  all  mingled  teais  and  caresses  ;  and  I  eagerly 
exclaimed,  <  I  am  repaid  for  all  the  siiilerings  of  the 
))ast.'  Yet  it  was  on  tliat  most  happy  evening,  I  resu- 
med my  ambitious  projrcts.  1  attributed  Reginahl's  late 
efforts  to  a  transcendant  genius  ;  but  not  daring  to  pro- 
pose his  future  separation  from  his  mother,  I  determined 
to  make  every  eftort  for  my  own  restoration  to  Britain. 

"  From  this  tiuie  1  bestowed  on  my  son's  mind  class- 
ical cultivation ;  and  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  read  a 
Latin  author,  Csesar's  Commentaries  became  his  great 
deliglit ;  he  was  still  moi*e  enamored  with  Plutarch's 
Lives  ;  his  eyes  flashed  at  the  name  of  Coriolanus  ;  he 
wished  he  had  been  born  a  Roman.  Yet  even  whilst  I 
was  exulting  in  his  heroic  sentiments,  he  daslied  my  tri- 
umph, by  saying,  that  Regulus,  the  supi-eme  object  of 
his  veneration,  had  acted  like  a  Huron, 

"  I  perceived  that  his  prepossessions  for  savage  life 
still  continued ;  yet  my  hopes  were  ardent.  The  heir 
apparent  to  the  throne  of  England  had  avowed  the  most 
liberal  sentiments  for  the  House  of  Stuart ;  and  I  w  as 
eneoui'aged  to  take  some  active  steps  for  recovering  my 
British  birthright.  I  privately  communicated  my  situ- 
ation to  the  governor  of  New  Yoik,  who  promised  to 
use  whatever  influence  he  possessed  in  my  favor. 

«*  In  making  tins  eff<)it,  it  formed  no  part  of  my  in- 
tentions to  enforce  any  claims  on  the  remnant  of  my  fa- 
ther's property.  Misfortune  had  visited  every  part  of 
our  family.  The  uncle,  to  whose  injustice  we  owed  our 
first  lapse  from  prosperity,  had  been  iuipoverished  by 
his  j)rodigcil  children.  The  estates  were  sold,  and  the 
descendants  of  the  younger  son  were  left  to  indigence 
and  obscurity. 

«  Some  years  ela])sed.  The  governor  was  recalled  ; 
but  still  promised  his  assistance.  In  tlic  nioantiine,  the 
war  was  carried  on  with  tljc  Frencii  I'aniulians  ;  and 
as  R<'ginald  had  evidently  a  predilection  f  >r  military 
adventure,  1  took  him  with  me  to  visit  the  Briiish  lin*  s. 
He  was  x-emarkably  tall  for  his  age,  nnd  aheady  pos- 


202  VAXSINOBE. 

sessed  a  martial  aspect ;  I  enga,2;cd  him  to  serve  as  st* 
voliuitecr,  imaginin.a^  1  could  not  devise  a  more  effectu- 
al method  to  erradicatc  his  remaining  Indian  prtju- 
dices. 

*<  In  taking  this  step  I  had  not  consulted  Susanna, 
whose  matoi'ual  tenderness  would,  I  feared,  revolt  from 
the  suggestion.  Yet  I  could  not  he  easy  witliout  appri- 
zing her  of  the  transaction  ;  and  liaving  placed  my  son, 
as  I  hoped,  in  his  proper  sphere  of  action,  I  returned 
home  to  dissipate  her  fears,  and  reconcile  her  to  his  ab- 
sence. 

"  In  announcing  my  mission,  I  tried  to  persuade  her 
that  the  choice  had  been  my  son's ;  that  it  was  whvdly 
made  for  his  gratification.  Slie  turned  pale,  but  onlj 
said,  *  May  Heaven  sanctify  the  choice.'  I  had  been 
prepared  with  arguments,  but  her  resignation  shook  my 
own  confidence,  and  I  could  not  be  satisfied  witiiout  re- 
turning to  tlie  camp.  My  daughter  expressed  her  child- 
ish delight  at  the  idea  of  seeing  her  brother  in  his  mili- 
tary dress,  and  by  her  smiles  dissipated  lier  mother's 
sadness. 

"  In  a  few  days  I  again  repaired  to  the  British  quar- 
ters }  hut  what  intelligence  awaited  me !  My  son  was 
a  deserter,  in  a  sliglit  skirmisli  with  the  French  he  had 
shewn  the  most  intrepid  courage  ;  but  two  or  three  Hu* 
rons  having  been  captured,  his  former  affbction  revived, 
and,  to  effect  their  release,  he  had  absconded  with  them, 
and  thus  entailed  on  his  memory  everlasting  reproach* 

"  I  was  at  first  stunned  by  the  calamity,  and  wound- 
ed where  I  was  most  irritable,  in  tlie  point  of  honor. 
I  seemed,  for  the  second  time,  banished  from  society : 
my  fondest  hopes  were  blasted  :  not  even  Susanna  could 
now  administer  to  me  consolation  ;  and  it  was  some  days 
before  I  could  prevail  on  myself  to  re-approach  my  des- 
olated liome.  Never  before  had  I  crossed  tlie  threshhold 
without  anticipating  a  smiling  welcome  ;  but  now  I  shud- 
dered at  the  idea  of  hearing  my  wife's  voice,  or  receiv- 
ing the  caresses  of  my  sole  surviving  child. 

"  I  found  Susanna  alone,  and  iier  countenance,  tFiough 
pale,   was  placid.     I  knew  not  how  to  enter  on  my 


VAXSINORE.  203* 

di'eadful  task.  I  Imd  expected  she  would  make  some 
enquiry  concerning  In  r  son.  I  at  lenqtli  thought  it  best 
to  niake  the  disch»siire  in  my  daughter's  presence,  and 
asked  where  she  was.  My  \a  ife  struggled  for  speech  j 
but  1  at  length  diseovei'cd  that  this  dear  child  had  died, 
after  an  illness  ol  scune  hours,  during  iny  absence.  We 
had  lost  our  darling  wIk  n  she  should  have  been  our  best 
comfort. 

*'  *  This  is  too  much,'  cried  I.  *  I  came  to  afflict  tliee, 
Susanna,  and  my  erraiul  is  already  anticipated.' 

<'  She  looked  at  me  wistfully,  and  at  length  said,  in 
a  low,  alm(»st  whispering  voice,  «  I  perceive  you  are 
again  alone.'  A  dei  p  groan  followed  ;  and  clasj)ing  her 
liands  together,  sheexclaiuied,  •  Speak  !  for  I  will  bear. 
I  promise  to  be  resigned.     Where  is  oui*  son  ?' 

it  «  Where  !*  cried  I  ;  *  would  he  had  never  existed  !' 

**  *  Oh,  Cwrnelius,  say  not  so  j  I  can  endure  any  thing 
but  this.     Surely,  lie  has  not  disgraced  you  ?' 

**  1  explainecl,  and  she  wept.  At  the  sight  of  her 
tears  my  indignation  was  changed  to  pity. 

**  «  Unhappy  boy  !'  said  she,  *  'twas  the  sin  of  igno- 
rance.' 

**  My  rage  was  then  directed  against  myself.  I  cur- 
sed my  fatal  obstinacy,  my  own  unextinguislied,  unap- 
proved ambition. 

"  *  No,' leturned  she,  with  her  native  energy,  *I 
only  am  to  blame.     I  who  entrusted  him  to  an  Indian.' 

"  *  And  that  also,  Susanna,  was  the  consequence  of 
my  surliness/ 

"  *  Oil,  Cornelius,  let  us  not  thus  aggravate  misery. 
Man  is  born  to  suffer  ;  resist  not  the  will  of  Providence, 
but  submit  meekly  to  its  mysterious  dis])ensations.  And 
here,'  added  she,  falling  on  my  neck,  and  shedding  a  iiood 
of  tears,  *  here  is  one,  that  shall  at  least  sorrow  with 
thee." 

"  Thus  did  this  heroic  woman  recall  my  fortitude  by 
her  own  noble  magnanindty.  She  was  my  angel,  my 
guide,  my  cons(d«  r^  but  whilst  slie  soothed  my  spirit  to 
traiiqiiiJiity.  she  was  herselt  consumed  with  grief.  At 
night  i  was  startled  by  her  deep-drawn  sighs  3  she  wast- 


204  V.VI.SINORE. 


ed  in  my  sii^ht ;  still  slie  made  efforts  to  smile,  but  the 
smile  was  awful.  Generous  as  ever,  it  was  foi' me  she 
suffered,  whilst  she  sought  to  fortify  my  mind  for  its  ap- 
pi'^iaeliiiig  trial. 

*«  On  the  first  symptoms  of  her  indisposition,  I  had 
transported  her  to  Albany,  and  called  in  the  most  es- 
teemed physician.  She  submitted  to  iiis  prescriptions 
\vitii  hei'  accustomed  sweetness,  but  I  soon  saw  that  all 
prescriptions  were  vam. 

"  *  Let  us  leave  this  country,'  said  she  one  day,  with 
unusual  animation  ;  *  we  are  here  remijided  of  wiiat  we 
have  lost.  Let  us  sell  our  plantations,  and  seek  another 
home.' 

<*  I  followed  this  suggestion,  and  wc  removed  to  New 
York,  whtM'o,  feeble  as  she  was,  she  Mould  have  enticed 
me  into  society.  1  too  well  coniprcliended  her  motives 
for  expressiJig  a  wish,  which,  during  seventeen  years, 
had  nevor  passed  her  lips. 

«*  One  day  she  proposed  that  we  should  travel.    «  But 
whither,   busanna?'     *  To  Madeira.'     As  she  spokeyii 
she  raised  her  languid  eyes,  and  appalled  me  with  th©|| 
view  of  her  dying  countenance.     Never  before  had  I  re- 
nounced hope  ',  but  now  that  she  mentioned  Madeira, 
«nd  that  I  belield  her  so  changvd,  so  faded,  from  that 
resplendent  beauty  in  wijich  S  had  borne  her  to  our  deli-j 
cious  paradise,  the  terrible  conviction  struck  my  soul,|! 
and  I  exclaimed,  *  No,  nevei*  to  Madeira,  never  !' 

«  *  Say  not  so,  ans\^el•ed  she,  with  a  faint  smile; 
*  some  time  honc"  it  may  comfort  thee  to  go  thither.' 

<*  She  articulated  tb(  s<^  words  with  a  slow  yet  tender 
solemnity,  that  revea'ed  their  secret  meanirig.     Sh*'  saw 
she  was  uTiderstood ;  and  whilst  my  impassioned  an-  i 
guish  b'lrst   forth,  said,  with  nn  angelic  smile,  *  Shall  > 
there  not  td ways  be  this  snb-h'.teltigence  between  usr'jl 
From  that  moment  I  had  eonstajitly  before  my  e^es  theil 
image  of  ou'    porting — in  ovei-y  object  I  beheld  tljr  fin- 
ger of  d''ath  predicting  her  destiny      IIo})e  I  bud  none  j 
but  there  was  a  sort  of  stispens".  th-at  state  of  doubt, 
winch,  at  a  happier  porio«l,  \  should  have  deemed  in- 
supportable, but  which  was  now  most  precious. 


TALSlNOniB.  ;J0& 

DiirinJS^  this  interval,  my  soul  was  absorbed  in  one 
object,  i  scarcely  ever  left  her — I  watched  witli  avari- 
cious vigilance  over  the  few  remaining  momeutsj — they 
were  all  numbered,  and  each  was  sacred. 

<«  It  was  an  luispeakahle  satisfaction  to  minister  to 
her  tiiosc  unavailing  di*aughts  she  took  for  my  sake. 
Still  there  was  little  in  her  apartment  that  had  the  air  of 
sickness :  she  even  strove  to  disguise  the  patient  under, 
a  tlr»^s8  i)eculiarl>y  acceptable  to  my  t^ste  ,*  for  neve^  to 
the  latest  hoin*,  did  she  remit  those  sweet  attenimns 
which  endear  the  most  trivial  >part  of  existence;  but, 
with  all  her  generous  duplicity,  I  coUfd  not  be  insensible 
to  the  rapid  approach  of  death.  .  • 

•>  "  0^  the  ever-mcmorHble  day  of  our  separation,.! 
received  from  the  agent  I  had  before  empl  >yed,  respect- 
ing my  restoration  to  Brjtain,  a  letter,  in  which  1  was 
assured  of  pereonal  indemnity  whenever  I  should  return 
to  my  native  country.  At  what  a  mom§n£  was  this  pro- 
mise given  !  when  I  had  lost  every'  motive  for  wishing 
to  retm'n.  and  could  no  longer jWh^ion,  withqirt  a  sense 
of  degratfation,  the  land  of  m^athcrs. 

Susanna  took  up  the  lettxw  I  had  read  in  mournful  si- 
lence. "  Yms,  you  inrisj;  return,'  cj'ied  aJic  j  i  it  i%a 
debt  you  owe  to  nature :  hitherto  you  have  cared  too 
much  for  one  to  think  of  tlie^anyy*.  * 

"  *  Surely,'  I  replii^r,  *^ou  wouhj  not  have  ^le^-e- 
call  that  ambition  which  lia§  been  "my  d.isti*oycr.' 

<*  *  No,  Cornelius,  I  would  not  leave  fan  in  such  vas- 
salage. Cherish  independence ;  but  even  a  solitary  in- 
dtsido^I  may  cast  fortLaliglit  that  shall  be  rellected 
through  the  world.  Remember  what  you  once  said, 
tiiat  ignorance  and  prejudice  were  the  roots  of  all  the 
selfish  feelings,  and  you  will  adv^ocatc  the  cause  of  truth. 
Recall  your  own  lessons,  and  you  will  need  no  other 
monitor.  Let  the  stigma  of  slavery  bo  wiped  from  the 
Christian  name.  Think  that  you  have  many  brothers, 
many  childrf  n  i  and  if  you  can  but  b«^queath  one  bless- 
ing to  humnnitv,  you  will  not  iiave  lived  in  vain.' 

"  Here  obner .  ing  that  she  seemed  pxiiausted,  I  urged 
her  tu  lie  down  on  her  couch,  and  kuecling  by  her  side^ 

S 


206  YAIiSINORB. 

with  one  Land  locked  in  mine,  I  watched  her  till  she 
sunk  into  a  gentle  slumber.  Her  dark  hair,  escaping  from 
her  cap,  was  finely  contrasted  with  her  pale  forehead  5 
a  hectic  bloom  flushed  her  cheeks — a  gracious  smile  play- 
ed round  her  lips.  She  soon  awoke,  and  turning  on  me 
those  eyes  which  beamed  with  enthusiasm,  attempered 
by  sweetness,  she  said,  *  I  cannot  sleep,  Cornelius  ;  nor 
^yould  I  now  lofSyin  sleep  the  iew  moments  that  may  yet 
lye  diared. between  us.  How  much  wo«lii  I  gatl#r  into 
this  little  space !  My\  best  fiiend,  we  must  separate. 
In  this,  as  in  evcfy  othJSf.instanee,  it  has  pleased  Hea- 
ven tifict  ll^iouldmthe  favored  .partner  ;•  andfet  itcohr 
sole  youX*a'  my  departure,  that  you  arc  suifering  for 
Ji\\  sake.'  She  saw  my  tears,  and  added,  in  l^mmost^v 
sobtlfcig  accents,  *  We^lravejiad  ^  long  lease  of  mippi*  -A 
^ess,  and -our  souls^j^Vfe.rijjeinftd  in  love.  It  is  for  you  \ 
t^pay  my  part  to  socrety'.^^Tfeiturn  to  Europe  ;  let  yotlr 
heart  flow  tJut'Njg  tKp  humaff  r^e  ;  make  Van  interest  in 
-  the  desolate,  the  per'&«^ed,  the  afflicted.*         V  j 

..,    "  -Sh^here  pron^^U  her  son's  name,  and  inVblun-    ' 
tarilv  I  bestowed  on  liim  mv  wafm^t  bR;ssin^?^An  in- 


from  which Tbwe  xj^iii^^^vaking. 

l^.i^V^as  «someJJ^  befoSj  vy^jsjcon^sbious  of  her  dis-> 
solution — heVspiVifsfenieirhovering  over  me — it  was  a 
Sabbath  of  lof^  and  sorrow,  in  which  my  soul  was  in- 
capable of  one  angry  cntQtioli,  one  vulgar  care  :  ^1  the  J 
ordinary  passions  rt'tirftri^afl^'  the  majesty  t.\^>5*.'*  ^ 
Recollecting  Ih-l*  c(H}yv'rs%io\fs^  rJabored  to  extract  from 
theuj  somc.paiting  reqtVst,  Itine^dying  injunction.     I 
could  only  discover  thatsht'  wished  me  to  ivturn  to  Eu- 
rope, 5»n(l  this  1  determined  t<>  do,  as  soon  as  I  shoidd 
have  setihd  my  few  w  rhlly  concerns,  and  obtained    j 
some  inteiligenee  concerning  Ket-inahl. 

<«  Sijfteued  by  afflictitm,  1  could  now  quietly  resign  all 
the  d;a=<«s  ofambititm,  and  J  yearned  but  to  beh<ihl  my 
Si  u,  tlir  sole  iilie  of  Susanna's  lov»-.  An  exchange  of 
prisoners  was  about  to  be  luade^  by  some  of  whom  i  ho- 


VALSINORE.  20y 

ped  to  trace  my  fuJ:;itivc.  I  commenced  my  journey  to- 
wards tlie  back  settlements.  In  my  way  I  luul  to  pass 
the  British  lines,  and  bein.a;  m;ifflli'(l  up  to  escape  observ- 
ation, I  gained  courage  to  a])pi'oacb  the  camp.  It  was 
a  glorious  morning,  and  I  felt  my  spirits  somewhat  re- 
vived by  the  loveliness  «»f  natuie. 

"  As  I  advanced  to  tlie  «)ut-i)ost,  I  observed  tlie  soldi- 
ers drawn  up,  as  if  there  was  to  be  some  grand  military 
spectacle.  On  enquiry,  I  was  informed  by  a  sentinel,, 
that  it  was  to  witmss  the  piniishmcnt  of  some  deserters. 
At  this  word  my  blood  was  congealed  with  horror,  till 
recollecting  that  Reginald  had  no  associate  in  his  flight, 
I  became  somewhat  re-assui-ed,  aiid  pi'oeeed'e<l  to  the 
spot  whei-c  one  of  the  delinquents  was  submitting  to  chas- 
tisement. At  the  first  glance  I  was  easy,  for  the  suffer- 
er was  totally  unlike  my  son.  and  tui-ned  my  steps  to 
another  part  of  tho  cam]),  where  I  heard  a  faint  niur- 
inur  of  his  youth  and  beauty.  I  proceeded  \\  ith  faltering 
steps,  too  much  agitated  to  make  any  enqiiiry,  but  the 
word  death  vibrated  on  mine  car,  and  suddenly  raising 
my  eyes,  I  beheld  my  Reginald  guarded,  yet  standing 
in  deep  thought,  with  much  dignity  in  his  mien,  and  un- 
alterable firmness  in  his  countenance.  At  my  cxclama- 
ti(Mi  of  anguish  he  looked  up  :  I  stretched  out  my  pater- 
nal arms,  but  he  deigned  hot-  to  notice  my  presence. 
*  Oh,  Reginald,'  cried  I,  '  wilt  thou  not  own  thy  fa-4 
thcr  ?' 

"  *  If  I  had  a  father,'  he  replied,  *  he  would  revenge 
inc.* 

.  <«  <  My  son,  I  am  not  an  Indian ;  nor  was  revenge  a 
part  (»f  thy  mother's  faith." 

"  «  My  mother !'  said  be,  in  a  softened  voice,  <  tell 
my  mother  1  am  going  to  that  world  where  the  wicked 
cease  from  troubling,  and  tlie  weai'v  be  at  rest.' 

"  This  passage,  wliich  he  had  learnt  when  a  cliild, 
from  her  lips,  he  repeated  with  her  own  delightfid  ac- 
cent. 1  fell  on  his  neck,  I  wept  aloud.  Touched  by 
my  grief,  the  sentinels  retired  a  few  paces,  to  allow  j.s 
to  converse  moi*e  freely  together. 

**  Wlicn  he  found  we  were  not  overhcai'd,  he  said, 
S2 


208  VAL9IN0RE. 

«  Do  you  observe  that  old  soldier  ?  He  would  last  night 
have  assisted  me  to  escape,  but  [  would  not  listen  to  the 
proposal,  lest  he,  too,  should  be  punished  as  a  traitor. 
I  deserted  not  from  fear,  but  gratitude.  I  would  not 
wrong  my  friends,  though  (frowning  awfully)  I  despise 
my  enemies.  Tlierefore,  my  father,  reward  that  man, 
for  he  would  have  preserved  my  life.' 

«  Oh !  my  Reginald,  thou  art  now  indeed  my  son^ 
worthy  of  thy  ancestors,  thy  country,  thy  mother.  Thou 
shalt  not  die ,  I  will  move  heaven  and  earth  to  save 
thee.' 

"  He  shook  his  head.  <  Can  you  suppose  I  would 
survive  the  scourge  ?' 

"  At  this  moment  1  heard  the  drums  beating,  and, 
anticipating  the  dreadful  signal,  I  flung  from  my  son, 
and  asked  for  the  commanding  officer.  I  was  directed 
towards  the  spot,  where  he  appeai"ed  on  horseback,  two 
or  three  military  comrades  standing  round  him.  As  I 
approached,  I  loudly  exclaimed,  «  Save  my  son.'  The 
officer,  though  of  a  mild  engaging  aspect,  turned  away 
his  head,  and  desired  I  might  be  conducted  to  his  tent. 
*  Hear  me,'  I  cried ;  but  at  that  moment,  spurring  his 
horse,  he  darted  away  ;  and,  with  almost  incredible  ve- 
Socity,  vanished  from  my  sight.  1  would  have  follow- 
ed, but  was  restrained  by  force,  and  dragged,  in  s])ite 
A  of  resistance,  towards  the  tent ;  where,  as  I  redoubled 
my  efforts  to  escape,  I  was  put  under  arrest. 

*♦  A  few  moments  after,  1  heaid  the  cannon  which 
was  to  proclaim  my  son's  doom.  All  my  struggles  were 
then  over,  1  fell  prostrate  on  the  ground,  and  remain- 
ed, I  know  not  how  long,  in  a  sort  of  death-like  insenr 
sibility.  But  I  was,  at  length,  roused,  by  hearing  the 
voice  of  that  young  man  I  liad  before  supplicated  in 
vain.  I  instantly  arose,  asking  with  vehemence,  where 
was  my  sun.  He  east  down  his  eyes,  with  a  mournful 
expression. 

«*  «  If  you  have  murdered  him,  let  me  also  die,  for  I 
wnB  thp  first  transgressor.' 

»<  *  Would  it  had  been  possible  to  save  him.' 

*<  »  And  is  it  really  finished?'  I  said  no  more;  but 
again,  bowing  my  head,  suiUt  to  the  ground. 


VAISINOBB.  20^ 

"  The  officer,  sighing  deeply,  exclaimed,  *  Unhappy 
father !' 

♦•  <  Wretcli!'  cried  I,  rising  with  ungovcrnahlc  fury, 
*  canst  thou  pity  i»im  thou  would'st  not  succor  ?  Why 
was  I  not  heard  ?  why  was  not  the  sentence  suspended 
or  repealed?  Your  rii^id  discipline  has  made  me  deso- 
late ;  childless  and  forsaken  1  sliall  descend  to  the  grave. 
Cursed  be  tlie  wretches  who  have  bereaved  me  of  iuy 
son  !  cursed  be  that  sense  of  duty  which  could  sanctify 
such  cruelty !  B«.  assured  you  will  some  day  feel  com- 
punction. Yon,  too,  may  become,  like  me,  wretched 
and  desolate  ;  your  wife  may  be  left  to  mourn  ;  your  fa- 
tlieiless  children  remain  without  a  helper,  'rrcmble, 
} oung  man,  for  your  iieart  was  steeled  to  the  holy  sup- 
plication of  nature.' 

**  *  Hear  me,'  he  cried,  *  you  are  deceived.  I  would 
have  saved  }  our  son  ;  he  refused  to  make  submission  ; 
he  scorniMl  to  accept  mercy.' 

*'  '  And  could  no  allowance  be  made  for  his  youth  ?' 

♦'  <  I  w  p.s  hei-e  but  in  place  of  a  superior.  I  had  no 
authorily  to  absolve  his  crime;  his  condemnation  had 
been  already  pronounced  ;  all  that  remained  for  me  w  as 
to  suspend  its  execution.' 

**  *  And  even  tlmt  you  refused  to  do  ?' 

*«  <  That,  Sir,  you  will  find  was  done.  I  waited  foi' 
the  return  of  my  general;  and  it  was  to  him  I  was  has- 
tening at  the  moment  you  would  have  stopt  mc  in  the 
camp.' 

<♦  <  And  was  yonr  general  then  inhuman  ?' 

«  ♦  No,  he  relented ;  but  your  son  had  decreed  his 
own  destruction ;  and  no  sooner  was  he  released,  than, 
to  escape,  as  he  imagined,  the  degradation  of  chastise- 
ment, he  rushed  on  a  naked  bayonet,  and  fell,  pierced 
with  a  mortal  wound.  He  yet  breathes,  if  you  would 
see  him.' 

«  In  another  moment  I  was  with  my  dying^Reginaldr 
who  confirmed  tiiis  statement.  When  all  was  over,  I 
was  again  cojiveycd  to  the  tent ;  where  the  officer  1  had' 
s<)  unjustly  accused,  took  upon  him  the  care  of  a  private 
iutcrmc&t*  Tlie  soldier  who  woidd  l^ave  rescued  mf 
'     1^* 


^10  VALSINORE. 

boy  was  my  fellow  mourner.  I  j^ave  him  my  purse ;  I 
offered  him  all  I  })ossessed  ;  he  refused  the  gift :  he  too 
was  a  husband  and  a  father. 

«'  This  last  duty  performed,  I  wislied  once  more  to 
sec  the  man  who  would  have  been  my  benefactor. 
Touched  with  contrition  for  my  former  in)])atiencc,  1 
would  iiave  offered  some  excuse,  but  he  refjised  to  listen, 
I  saw  tears  rolling  down  his  cheeks  :  overpowered  by 
this  mark  of  sympathy  in  a  stranger,  I  fell  at  his  feet ; 
I  was  wholly  unmanned ;  I  wept.  But  what  was  my 
anguish  when  I  discovei-ed  that  he  was  my  kinsman,  the 
descendant  of  my  father's  brother.  I  had  now  an  unut- 
terable pang  at  the  recollection  of  my  maledictions  ;  but 
I  divulged  not  the  relation  between  us  j  I  had  lost  all" 
power  to  allude  to  the  past. 

"  I  was  conducted  from  the  camp  by  a  person  who 
liad  known  me  in  Albany,  and  who  compelled  me  to 
accept  his  assistance ;  of  effort  or  resistance  I  was  no, 
longer  capable  ;  1  was  seized  with  a  stupor,  bordering^^ 
on  derarigement.  A  voyage  was  thought  advisable,  and 
being  now  wholly  passive,  1  was  easily  induced  by  my 
host  to  embark  with  him  for  Jamaica.  In  tliis  new  situ- 
ation I  recovered  my  perceptions,  and  with  them  all  the 
enci'gies  of  grief. 

"  During  my  residence  in  the  island,  I  again  sunk 
into  heartless  despondence,  but  was  roused  by  indigna- 
tion on  witnessing  the  detested  traffic  in  lunnan  beings, 
1  recalled  my  wife's  dying  words,  and  resolved  to  ex- 
pose to  Europe  the  horrors  of  slavery.  I  had  no  soon- 
er formed  this  resolution  than  my  mind  becamj;^  more 
easy  ;  and  I  now  recollected,  with  the  longings  (^i^affec- 
tion,  that  delicious  island  in  which  I  had  tasted  every  en- 
joyment. "With  my  friend's  assistance,  my  business  be- 
ing now  transacted,  I  once  more  landed  in  Madeira ; 
where  every  ol)jcct  spoke  to  me  of  Susanna. 

**  It  was  liere  1  met  with  a  wretched  miser,  who  had 
remitted  money  to  every  considerable  bank  in  Europe^ 
anxious  to  avert  the  evil  of  poverty,  though  he  lived  int 
the  priviition  of  every  enjoyment.  He  was  in  the  last 
tgtage  of  ati'ophy  j  his  recovery  appeai'ed  unpossi))lc,  au<l 


TALSINORE  gll 

lie  was  siuUlonly  impressed  with  the  desiiT  of  making 
some  atoiiemout  for  his  former  rapacity;  he  had  neither 
w  ife,  nor  children,  nor  any  relations  for  whom  he  caiHsd  ; 
his  hard  lieart  was  equally  incajnible  of  piety  or  benev- 
oh^nce.  He  had  heard  of  my  sing(ilar  ojjinions,  and 
sti'uck  v.ith  my  contempt  for  money,  determined  to  make 
me  his  almoner  ;  foi*  this  purpose  he  g'ave  me  an  order 
on  the  llamburt^h  bank  for  a  considerable  sum,  to  be 
solely  dedicated  to  objects  of  charity  ;  hut  he  annexed 
to  tliis  a  restriction  aj^ainst  usini;;it  previous  to  his  own 
decease.  He  had  an  avei'sion  to  the  idea  of  making  a 
will ;  and  at  his  death,  wliich  happened  two  or  three  days 
before  I  left  Madeira,  his  immense  treasures,  with 
the  exception  of  that  small  portion  committed  to  my 
trust,  enriched  only  tlie  rtspectivc  governments  of  those 
Countries,  in  wJiich  they  were  placed. 

"  From  tliat  tune  to  the  i»resent,  I  have  religiously 
observed  my  engagement,  having  never  diverted  from 
its  proper  ol)jeet  this  little  fund  of  charity.  On  my  re- 
turn to  Europe  I  assumed  a  new  name,  and  with  it  com- 
menced a  new  career.  The  reccdieelion  of  my  couniry 
Avas  too  ]JHinl'ul  to  be  dwelt  on  ;  Ihad  no  motive  for  re- 
suming the  jH'ivileges  of  a  Briton.  I  was  long  tortured 
with  the  ago)dzing  consciousness  of  privation  ;  I  gave 
alms  without  pity  J  1  advocated  the  cause  of  man  with- 
out benevolence.  I  was  at  lengtli  induced  to  visit  Eng- 
lan'l,  where  I  found,  in  the  deepest  distress,  the  widow 
and  son  of  my  unacknowledged  kinsman.  In  witness- 
ing their  aillietions,  my  heai't  was  again  visited  by 
co!np;;nction  ;  I  would  not  violate  the  fund  of  charity, 
bu^  I  borrowed  from  it  a  sjm  equivalent  to  all  my  own 
worldlv  i)t)Ssissions  ;  and  this  1  bestowed  on  them, with 
my  fervent  benediction.  The  aiiibition  that  once  raged 
in  my  so  d  is  extinguislied.  The  salutaiy  counsels  of 
Susanna  liavc,  at  length,  restoi'cd  me  to  peace.  I  have 
yet  one  wish  uiigratified  :  it  is,  to  administer  consola- 
tion to  the  comp.ini'm  of  my  yoiitli.  Albert  yet  lives; 
he  has  been  schooled  in  adversity }  he  is  chastened  by 
disappointment;  could  1  discover  his  retreat,  I  woidd 
seek  Uiin  in  any  corner  of  tlie  globc^  and    divide  with 


212  VALSINORE. 

him  the  p<?ace  which  is  now  the  inmate  of  my  breast.  I 
would  teacii  iiim,  in  Susanna's  words,  to  Jet  his  love  flow 
out  to  the  human  race.  It  is  with  the  tears,  wiped  from 
other  eyes,  that  we  heal  our  own  bosom  wounds.  It  is 
by  renouncint^  selfishness  and  cherishing  sympathy,  tliat 
the  once  wi'etclied,  despairing  man,  restored  to  tiie 
privileges  of  a  human  being,  learns  to  say,  *  It  is  good 
for  met©  have  been  afflicted.' '' 

Onorieof  tiie  blank  pages  following  the  narrative,  Al- 
tamont  had  written  with  a  pencil,  *»  My  kinsman  and 
my  benefactor,  whom  my  heart  has  so  long  sought !  The 
m^  sterious  being  to  whom  I  am  so  greatly  indebted,  for 
such  you  certainl}' are !  misfortune  lias  indeed  visited 
our  house  :  its  patrimony  is  dissipated,  its  honors  lap- 
sed, its  name  almost  foi'gottcn.  We  are  all  wantlerers 
ori^f  he  earth  ;  buttiiou  hadstthy  Susanna,  and  with  her 
a  term  of  more  than  human  happiness.  I  too  love,  but 
without  hope.  I  leave  my  country,  and  witii  it  the  sole 
object  who  could  make  life  worth  acceptance." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

FOR  the  first  three  months  of  their  residence  in  Lon- 
don, neither  Adela  nor  Cordelia  had  much  intercourse 
with  the  world.' *  The  foinner  was  reconcil'.d  to  hei*  reti- 
red life  by  the  society  of  Valiancy,  who  was  almost  their 
daily  guest ;  the  latter  had  lost  all  relish  f  )r  gaiety,  and 
could  she  have  been  permitted  to  make  her  choice,  would 
have  gladly  devoted  herself  to  solitude  and  seclusion. 
Whenever  she  saw  her  father  he  was  cordially  affec- 
tionate ;  and  she  was  almost  persuaded  the  former 
fluctuations  in  his  deportment  had  been  ocsasioned  by 
Mrs.  De  Lille's  jealousy.  Hewoidd  sometimes  confess 
the  errors  of  his  early  life  with  such  apparent  candor, 
that  she  was  ready  to  pronounce  him  incapable  of  delibe- 
rate duplicity  !  and  while  she  lamented  Mrs.  Giadwiu's 


VALSIWORE,  21S 

estrangement,  belle vcd  slie  did  lierfatlier  great  injustice. 
In  tiKse  confidential  conversations  Do  Lille  souictimes  in- 
timated, that  he  was  addicted  to  idavj  and  that  he  in- 
tended to  settle  on  her  a  certain  fortune,  to  secure  her 
from  the  eftectsofhis  inipriidence.  He  would  then  add, 
th.it  he  placed  implicit  confiilence  in  the  rectitude  of  her 
principles  ;  and  that  he  w  as  convinced,  the  possesion 
of  independence  would  never  weaken  her  sense  eft  filial 
duty.  ^ 

.  It  was  impossible  that  so  much  kindness  should  not 
-l-iQifch  a  heart  so  tender,  so  susceptible  of  filial  atl3,ch- 
mcMif.  Cordelia  was  really  endeared  to  her  fatltcr  by  the 
sensibility  she  now  discovered  to  his  attentions  ;  sm?  Be- 
came the  darling,  not  of  his  heart,  but  his  fauey.  H^ 
delighted  to  anticipate  her  future  establishment  with 
Sir  Frederic  ;  and  he  had  a  sort  of  malignant  satisfac- 
tion in  the  belief,  that  ho  should  inflict  mortification  on 
the  too  presumptuous  Alt;4!nont.  In  tlie  meantime,  his 
elected  son-in-law  was  cautious  not  to  hazard  an  avowal 
wliich  might  exclude  him  from  the  piivileges  of  intima- 
cy which  he  now  enjoyed.  In  submitting  to  the  restric- 
tions imposed  by  prudence,  he,  however,  persisted  in 
tiiat  course  of  small,  silent  attentions  which,  without  au- 
thorising repulse,  sufficiently  express  attachnjent.  In 
adopting  tliis  cautious  line  of  conduct,  he  purstied  the 
counsels  of  Miss  Rouvigny,  who  was  now  his  confidante 
and  his  advocate  ;  and  who,  from  well-meant  zeal  to 
eradicate  what  she  considered  as  a  most  unlM'tunate  pre- 
possession, seized  every  opportunity  to  cxwthis  worth, 
and  depreciate  that  of  his  rival. 

Cordelia  was  not  insensible  to  Sir  Frederic's  merit : 
his  society  was  really  pleasing  ;  slie  distiusted  not  the 
rectitude  of  his  princi[»les  ;  but  extreme  circumspection 
often  ])roduced  in  liis  manners  a  sort  of  artificial  frigi- 
dity, which  repressed  the  genial  flow  of  sympathy  and 
confidence;  and.  without  attempting  to  d-fine  her  feel- 
ings, she  always  found  something  wanting  to  perfect  en- 
joyment. 

Miss  Rou\  igny  certainly  injtn'ed  Ins  ca'ise  whenever 
she  hazarded  any  insinuation  wliich  could   provoke   a 


214  VALSINORE. 

comparison  between  liim  and  Altaniont,  whose  brilliant 
talents  dazzled  the  imagination  of  Cordelia,  whilst  the 
conviction,  tliat  lie  was  neither  pi^ospcrous  nor  hap])}', 
subdued  her  iieart.  Then  she  was  persuaded,  tliat  he 
loved,  without  cherisliinj^  hope,  and  became  ambitious 
of  emulating  him  in  disinterestedness  of  sentiment.  She 
recollected  too  her  obligation  to  his  mother's  kindness, 
and  willingly  found  in  gratitude  a  plea  for  constancy 
and  stability.  In  her  conversations  with  Adela,  how- 
ever, she  never  mentioned  Altamont ;  but  her  friend 
was  now  peifcctly  aware,  that  it  was  for  his  sake  she 
professed  her  I'esolution  never  to  enter  the  married  state. 

One  day,  perceiving  her  unusually  dejected,  she  ex- 
claimed, "  Cordelia,  what  will  you  say  if  1  give  you 
some  intelligence  from  your  first  preceptor  ?  You  must 
know.  Sir  Frederic  has  access  to  that  pretty  Jilrs.  Wood- 
ville,  with  whom  he  keeps  up  a  constant  correspond- 
ence ;  and  wh(»  being  lately  m  want  of  money  was  sup- 
plied by  Sir  Frederic's  liberality.  The  protegee  inform- 
ed your  friend  of  the  circumstance,  and  here  is  a  note,  in 
which  was  inclosed  a  40l.  bill  for  repayment.  So  you 
see  he  can  find  money  for  this  pretty  m  oman,  we  will 
hope,  for  his  friend's  sake  ;  though  to  him  it  might  ])er- 
haps,  have  been  indifferent  whether  the  supply  came 
from  Sir  Frederic  or  Mr.  Altamont." 

Cordelia  took  the  note,  which,  to  her  extreme  "sur- 
prise, contained  an  acknowledgment  of  the  money  lent 
to  Mrs.  Woodville,  and  a  request  that  he  would  accept 
the  inclosed  in  payment. 

*'  I  assure  you,"  added  Adela,  with  a  malicious  smile, 
*•  I  had  some  difficulty  in  coaxing  that  bit  of  paper  out 
of  him.  It  was  merely  to  quiet  y(»ur  apprehensions  for 
his  safety  that  I  asked  the  boon  ;  but  I  ]»romised  not  to 
shew  it  to  Valiancy ;  so  you  see  he  is  well  at  least,  if  he 
is  not  happy." 

*'  I  can  perceive,"  said  Cordelia,  "  that  he  is  at  least 
honorable,  and  inde])endent." 

It  was  easy  to  divine  her  friend's  motive  in  making 
this  communication  ^  and,  for  the  first  time,  itoccuried 
to  her,  that  Sir  Frederic  was  capable  of  artifice  and  du- 


VALSINORE.  2iB 

plicity.  Her  estcom  for  Altamoiit  was  not  destroyed  by 
the  insinuations  of  Miss  Roitvigny,  who  cnnl'cssed  to  the 
Baronet  with  some  chagjin,  that  she  had  found  her 
friend  more  sceptical  than  she  expected." 

Tliis  intelligence  was  sufficiently  mortifying,  as  he 
had  emi)h)yed  in  this  scheme  a  considerable  portion  of 
ingenuity  and  address. 

The  idea  had  been  suggested  to  his  mind  in  one  of  his 
friendly  visits  to  Mrs.  Woodville,  who  having  sent  to 
London  the  401.  draft  she  had  received  from  Altainont, 
which  was  simply  an  order  on  Vailancy-s  banker,  was 
inexpressibly  cliagrincd  when  it  was  returned  to  her, 
with  the  unpleasant  intimation,  that  the  banker,  not 
having  received  proper  notice  of  the  demand,  refused 
payment. 

Sir  Frederic,  who  was  sitting  with  her  on  the  receipt 
of  tlie  letter,  perceiving  the  change  in  her  countenance, 
easily  prevailed  on  her  to  explain  the  nature  of  her  em- 
barrassment. He  instantly  offered  to  rectify  the  mis- 
take ;  supplied  the  sum  she  had  expected  to  receive,  and 
took  the  order  into  his  own  possession,  advising  her  to 
transmit  to  Altamont  an  acc(uintof  the  transaction, 

Mrs.  Woodville  obeycjl,  and  her  letter,  hai)pening  to 
reach  Altamont  nearly  at  the  same  time  with  Vallanev's 
lae.uiic  epistle,  excitid,  as  Sir  Frederic  had  fiueseeii, 
strong  resentment  for  his  friend's  levity  and  caprice. 

Too  much  offended  to  avow  displeasure,  he  i-etm-ned 
no  answci'  ;  but,  scorning  to  remain  under  an  obligati- 
on to  Sir  Frederic  M(>whray,  borrowed  of  Mr.  Bruce, 
and  n  uiitttd  to  him  a  draft,  inclosed  in  the  note  whicli 
had  be<'n  sh"wn  to  Cordelia.  Sir  Firderic  pivserved 
this  note  with  malicious  eare  ;  and  when  Miss  Rouvigny 
intimrtTts'l,  that  she  fear'  d  Cordelia  was  rendered  unea- 
sy by  Altam<.ut''s  silence,  he  ventured  with  some  hesita- 
tion to  pi(!d;icv  his  signature  as  a  proof  of  his  existence  ; 
he  tlieu  rrliiled  as  much  of  the  history  a[)p  luled  to  the 
note  as  suited  his  own  purpose,  and  l.ft  her  lo  make 
what  report  sin  pleased  to  Cordelia;  but  with  ,\  strict 
inj'netic!!  n  it  to  divulge  it  to  Valiancy.  For  tliis  in- 
juncuon  he  had^  whenever  dctcctiou  should  occur^  the 


216  VALSrNORE. 

all-prevail Inc:  P^^a,  that  he  would  notajivr  him  pain  j  a 
pka  (Very  day  ptrverti'd  to  gloss  (/vei-  (lu[)licity,  and 
sai^iify  decej)tirni.  Had  Adela  possessed  his  address, 
the  »n-nti)ri  .f  Mvs.  Woodvilie's  convspondcnce,  sup- 
ported by  thisdocunieiit,  might  have  made  some  impi'ess- 
ion  on  Cordelia's  mind;  but  her  friend's  motives  were 
too  pa{j>able  to  be  n.istaken,  aiul  she  pcihaps  was  more 
than  evei-  attached  to  Altamont ;  not  for  c  rresponding 
with  a  young  and  pretty  woman,  but  fur  being,  as  she 
concv^ived,  aspersed  by  calumny.  In  this  insfauee,  the 
Baronet  did  not  speculate  with  his  usual  felicity,  b(  ing 
loweiTd  in  her  esteem  at  the  very  moment  when  he  ex- 
pected to  make  s(jme  progress  in  her  legard. 

Hi^  passion  was  now  sustained  by  a  spirit  of  oppositi- 
on that  ill  aeoi'ded  with  th<'  tenderness  of  affection. 
Like  the  gamester,  he  had  hazarded  every  thing  on  a 
single  stak(  ;  and,  beyond  the  attainnunt  of  success,  had 
no  df'cams  of  flicity,  no  anticipations  of  tliat  mutual 
confidi  nee  and  seeunty,  which  are  the  true  sources  of 
cl(.*;'Stic  endearment.  As  his  gratification  was  selfish 
it  w-,s  limited.  Conscious  that  he  deserved  not  Corde*. 
lia's  love,  he  was  unabis*  to  conceive  that  he  should  e^er 
discard  the  vigilance  and  caution  of  jealousy.  -  In  ob- 
taining her  hand,  he  expected  net  to  satisfy  her  heart : 
in  supplanting  his  rival,  he  ,bope<l  no^  to  engross  tlic 
fe*  lings  so  long  devoted  to  artrtiH^r.  Many  circumstan- 
ces, how;'v<  r,  conspired  in  his  favor  ;  he  had  all  the  pri- 
vileges of  fr  ir^idship ;  and  month  after  month  elapsed 
witiiout  producing  any  tidings  of  Altamont,  who  was 
now  almost  dismissed  frojn  Mi*^s  Rouvigny's  mind ; 
whilst  Conlelia  so  rarrly  pr.nounce<l  his  name,  that  to 
all  but  Sir  Frederic  it  might  have  appeivrc  I.  Hiat  the  in- 
teresting s'.bjcet  of  her  thoughts  was  consigned  not 
merely  to  silence  but  to  oblivion. 


TALSINORE.  217 


CHAPTER    XXIX.   .! 


ALTAMONT  had  left  Eng-laiul  witjftlie  persuasion, 
that  ibir  Frederic  iM(»\vbiay  wouhl  r\(M  devote,  his  hand 
and  heart  to  Cord-Iia.  To  relieve  tlici  tortui-os  of  sus- 
pense he  had  wiitti  n  to  Mrs.  Woodville,  and  was  inex- 
pressibly chagiined  to  find  she  was  so  far  distant  from 
Beaclidale.  Unfortunately  too,  though  Sir  Frederic  had 
taken  the  precaution  to  inform  her  that  the  letter  intrust- 
ed to  his  care  had  been  lost,  she  had  suppressed  all  men-«^ 
tion  of  this  circumstance;  purely  because,  as  she  sup- 
posed it  to  have  been  written  on  her  account,  she  wriuld 
not  occasion  additional  trouble  to  her  husband's  friend. 
Altamont  was,  therefore,  disapp!)inted  at  Conlelia's  si- 
lence, tliough  without  ever  having  hoped  for  her  cor- 
^  respondence ;  he  endeavored,  iiuleed,  to  pei-suade  him- 
[  self  he  was  philosophic  enough  to  renounce  her ;  and 
fancied  he  was  making  some  progress  in  his  restoration, 
to  mental  independence,  when  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Glad- 
win, who,  though  she  no  longer  saw  any  of  the  De 
liiile's,  had  lately  heard  of  thim  in  London,  announced 
the  intended  marriage  of  Valiancy  with  Miss  Rouvigny, 
and  of  Cordelia  to  Sir  Frederic  ^Iowbray. 

Though  the  source  of  this  intdligi-nco  was  somewhat 
suspicious,  he  did  not,  at  first,  hesitatf.  to  admit  its  au- 
thenticity ;  at  fii'st,  too,  he  fancied  it  was  a  rrli<4'  to  es- 
cape from  suspense  to  arrive  at  any  ctTtainty  however 
unwelcome,  to  exeliangc  doubt  aiul  solicitude  for  imiif- 
fcrence  and  despondence  :  but  where  was  now  his  pro- 
fession, his  occupation,  the  sphere  of  usefidness  and  ac- 
tivity in  which  he  had  so  lately  hop- J  to  arrive  at  hon- 
orable eminence  ?  His  engagement  had  been  formed 
I  under  Cordelia's  auspices  ,  without  her  he  lost  the  ener- 
gy inspired  by  hope  ;  no  other  object  could  gild  tlie  per- 
spective of  a  long  and  dreary  pn^bation  j  he  had  no  ear- 
nest of  reward  ;  no  solace  for  the  laborious  pursuits  and 
distasteful  drudgery  inseparable  from  the  profession. 

T 


21*  TAISIXORE. 

Like  Woodville,  lie  had  dwdt  too  mncli  in  liis  own 
woild ;  lie  was  too  familiar  with  the  ditams  of  fancy, 
too^uth  refined  by  fastidious  sensibility,  for  persevering 
■e^^rtion  or  liealtbful  enjoyment.  RelieAed  from  all  anx- 
iety on  his  mother's  account,  he  liad  no  moiivcs  of  duty 
to  rouse  liim  from  inactivity  ;  he  had  almost  determined 
to  renounce  his  En^^lish  connections,  and  make  a  pedes- 
trian tour  over  Europe,  when  love,  disguised  as  pride, 
prompted  him  to  return  to  England,  to  prove  that  he 
was  still  ambitious  of  Cordelia's  esteem,  and  not  un- 
Avortliy  of  her  friendship. 

He  had  no  S'.,-oner  arrived  at  this  decision  than  his  la- 
tent hopes  revived,  and  he  became  impatient  to  com- 
menee  his  journey.  No  objections  were  started  by  his 
mother  or  Mr.  Bruce ;  but  to  execute  a  commission  for 
thv'  latter,  he  made  a  deviation  from  tiie  regular  road, 
Aviiich  considerably  retarded  his  pi-ogress.  Provoked 
by  these  unseasonable  delays,  he  w  as  amazed  at  his  re- 
cent listlessness  and  resignation,  and  magnanimously 
resvjlved  never  again  to  submit  to  the  same  impression. 
Impatience  became  his  active  principle,  till  he  found  him- 
self near  London,  when,  by  a  strange  contradiction,  he 
wished  himself  at  a  hundred  miles  distance. 

To  what  purpose  should  he  be  near  Cordelia  if  they 
never  meet  ?  and  how  shall  he  intrude  on  her  father's 
notice  ;  how  endure  the  exultation  of  her  supposed  lov- 
er ?  Since  his  arrival  in  England  he  had  already  ob- 
served in  the  papers  an  intimation  of  Valiancy's  nuptials, 
but  not  one  syllable  of  feir  Fi'ederic  Mowbi'ay.  He  still 
indulges  a  hope  that  resists  annihilation ;  and  as  he  rolls 
along  the  streets  feels  reanimated,  even  by  the  conscious- 
ness of  breathing  in  the  same  city  as  Cordelia. 

Wlien  the  carriage  sto])t,  he  suffered  his  baggage  to 
be  carried  into  the  inn,  and  tijen  pniceeded  mechanically 
tow'aids  tlie  hotel  where  he  had  last  i)ai'ted  from  Valian- 
cy. As  lie  approached  the  house  he  felt  his  arm  grasped, 
and,  turning  round,  behe'd  not  his  volatile,  thoughtless, 
captioi'S  friend,  but  the  generous,  the  venerable  Haller, 
<*  And  am  1  so  soon  fori^-ctlen  ?"  said  the  sage,  perceiv- 
ing his  amazement,    Tlie  joy  that  flushed  from  Alta- 


YALSINORE.  219 

niont*s  eyes  contradicted  the  assertion  ;  mutual  enquiries 
and  explajiatioiis  snccccdcd  j  and  Altamonl  knint  lliat 
llalI»M-liad  arrived  i>i  London  buttlie  inccediiia;  eveuiiij^, 
and  was  to  leave  it  in  a  few  hours.  '«  Let  iis  s«]>«'nd 
this  little  interval  to.a;<'ther,"  said  the  old  man,  eonduct- 
inr;  him  to  ids  «(iiarlers ;  ♦•  and  now  tell  inr  IJiat  >ou 
are  |irei)aring  to  prove  yourself  an  Kn2;lisfinian.  It 
is  time  1  should  hear  of  your  exertions,  as  well  as  your 
attainments." 

*<  Altaiuont  shook  liis  head.  "  It  is  true  I  eame  to 
this  country  with  the  iTsolution  to  redeem  wasted  time, 
but  a  spell  overhangs  my  destiny,  a?id  there  is  one  con- 
tingency on  which  1  should  leave  it,  perhaps,  forever." 

*•  Rouse,  Altamont ;  a  noble  mind  should  break  the 
enchantment.  Is  reason,  trutli,  or  principle,  to  litng 
suspended  by  a  poor  contingency?  Tliis  soj)histi,\  is 
all  passion  and  dclusimi ;  you  dream  to-night,  you  will 
awake  to-moT'ro\v  ;  you  will  tlie  next  day  wonder  wlionce 
came  the  ])hantoni  so  lately  invested  with  omuipotence." 

Altamont,  C(mvinced,  but  not  persuaded,  was  unable 
to  \'c[t\y  ;  thei'c  was  a  short  ])ause,  w  hen  Haller  s:ud, 
**  Where  is  the  volatile  Valiancy,  and  his  sedate  grand- 
father ?  Where  is  (he  jiolislied  De  Lille,  and,  above  all, 
tlie  ingenuous  Cordelia?" 

"  With  Valiancy  I  have  lately  bad  no  correspondence: 
but  I  find  be  is  soon  to  he  married  to  Miss  Rouvigny; 
and  Corddia  to  Sir  Frederic  Mow  bray." 

*'  Indeed,  said  Haller,  looking  incredulous,  "  I 
should  almost  doubt  that  intelligence." 

Altamont,  thrown  off  his  guard,  exclain»ed  with  rap- 
ture, ♦<  You  really  doubt  ?  She  is  in  London  ;  when 
will  you  visit  her?" 

♦•  Nut  till  I  have  accomplished  the  j)urpose  for  w  hich 
I  lefl  (iermany.  Not  till  I  return  from  tiie  retreat  to 
wind)  J  am  now  hastening,  perhaps  for  hei"  sakt  ;  an 
old  man  is  not  swayed  b\  contingencies;  and  the  y»>i<ng 
man  who  would  rise,  above  an  ordinary  lev<'l  in  f{<me  or 
Ti''ttr.>.  rn.;st  r'Sti-itin  the  vagrant  iunvilses.  v- iucli  <  ither 
render  liiin  weak  or  wickul.  miserable  or  contemptible." 

T2 


"1 

4 


^0  TALSINORE. 

He  then  changed  tlie  subject.  AUamont  was  again 
sensible  to  the  inttuen(re  of  liis  precepts. 

«  You  will  call  nie  unfeeling,"  said  Haller,  «  if  I  tell 
you,  that  the  mots  of  liunian  misery  are  to  be  found  in  an 
ill  regulated  imagination.  To  yon,  indeed,  misery  is 
but  a  name,  without  a  substantial  image  ;  but  if  you  can 
spare  me  two  hours,  1  will  introduce  you  to  a  scene 
which  may  at  once  iiispire  fortitude  and  pity." 

Altamont  readily  acquiesced ;  and,  renovated  by  Hal- 
ler's  incrediility  to  the  report  of  Cordelia's  marriage, 
resolved  not  to  let  the  morrow  close  without  making  an 
«ffort  to  see  her. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

THE  friends  stepped  into  a  hackney-coach,  which 
convt  yed  them  to  tbe  entrance  of  a  prison.  "  I  never 
come  to  a  gi*eat  city,"  said  Haller,  "  without  paying  a 
visit  to  these  haunts  of  terror  and  remorse.  It  is  one  of 
the  hardest  trials  I  can  impose  on  my  nature,  and  is  the 
only  penance  to  wliich  I  now  submit  for  errors  which,  I 
trust,  have  been  expiated  by  former  suffering.  I  carry 
with  me  a  purse,  which  affords  relief  to  some  few 
debtors ;  hut  for  the  other  unforttmates  what  shall 
be  done  I  Seldom  is  it  in  the  power  of  any  man  to  offer 
hope,  and  without  it,  what  is  consolation?  I  do  not 
bring  you  here  to  soften  your  heart,  but  to  call  youi*  at- 
tention to  an  evil  which  demands  redress  ;  the  debtor  is 
immured  under  the  same  roof,  and  often  witliin  the  same 
cell,  viis  the  ci'iniinal ;  and  the  man  who  has,  perhaps, 
been  only  weak  and  unfortunate,  is  degraded  by  asso- 
ciation with  the  guilty  :  attend  to  this,  and  let  it  be  one 
of  your  future  objects  to  remove  the  obloquy  from  your 
national  legislature."  He  then  ushered  him  into  some 
of  the  condemned  cells  ;  from  thence  they  |)rocee(^ed  to 
the  other  c:)url:s  of  the  prison.  Haller  having  jnade  en- 
quiry concerning  some  petty  dehtors  whoai  he  wished  to 


YAXSINORE.  221 

liberate,  and  not  clioosin.j^  to  Iiavc  any  witness  of  liis 
bountV)  <I  sired  Altamoiit  to  wait  in  one  of  the  outer 
courts,  wliilsl  lio  proceeded  on  l»is  mission  of  charity. 

As  he  was  Iip)*c  runiinating'  with  that  solemn  awe 
which  imptrss  s  an  unhackneyod  mind  on  the  contem- 
plation of  h  nnan  calamity,  he  obs 'rved  a  pretty  little 
boy,  aixxit  tlii-e  ■  years  ohl,  i«s  lin'^  from  one  of  the  pass- 
ages; h  ihiiiiu:  in  his  hand  a  ball,  with  which  he  was 
amusin.^  Ins  solititih".  Altamnnl  drew  near,  not  a  little 
surpris'd  at  Ids  beauty ,  the  neatness  of  his  divss,  and 
his  air  of  j^-ntl  iiess  and  courtesy.  Tlii^  litth'  fellow  at 
lirsi  relrealed,  as  if  lie  liad  been  afraid  he  should  be  cii'- 
ciimsciiluMl  in  his  lil>eiiy.  ••  Where  do  you  live,  my 
pretty  cliild  ?'*  *•  Witli  maiiinia."  •'  And  where  is 
that  ?*'  The  boy  tinned  towards  the  ])assa.a:e  whence 
he  had  issued,  and  then  h)oked  l»ack,  as  if  be  had  offer- 
ed to  show  his  habitalion.  Altamont  followed,  almost 
mechanically,  till  tiie  c'.iild  led  him  to  a  door  which  was 
fastenoil  within;  here  he  tappc<l.  callin.^  out  mamma; 
and  at  the  sound  of  his  soft  ])laiij1ive  voice  the  door  was 
opened,   and  Altamont  was  admitted  with  him. 

The  room  was  so  daik,  that  on  his  first  entrance,  he 
merely  perceived  a  female  fi.^Mire  standing  on  one  side, 
and  at  the  other  end  a  man  reclining  on  a  couch ;  but 
no  sooner  was  the  door  closed  than  the  lady  uttered  a 
piercing  shriek,  and  he  recognized  ^Irs.  Woodville  ;  hej* 
husband,  starting  from  his  retreat,  flew  to  her  relief, 
but  on  discovering  Altamont,  s])read  his  haiuls  over  his 
face  ;  whilst  his  wife,  falling  on  her  knees,  exclaimed, 
<*  Oh,  do  not,  do  not  ruin  him  •,  for  mci'c>  's  sake  be- 
friend him.''  In  the  utmost  astonishment  AUamoiit  de- 
manded an  ex])lanation.  '*  Do  you  not  know  ?  Oh,  yet 
then  all  is  well!"  and  rising  with  precipitation,  sh^ 
bolted  the  door,  and  looking  around  with  fearful  vigi- 
lance, said,  almost  in  a  whisper,    ♦<  Then   pray  don't 

^|«ay  y<iu  knew  him  ;  you  could  not  bear  t(»  betray  him  ; 
'tw'.mld  break  ymir  heart  to  do  it ;  oh,  your  heai't  is 
kiml  and  good,  I  know  it  widl.** 

Here  Altamont.  ncollecting  th*^  terrible  impression 

.J.  h»  kad  i-eccivedtMi  the  heath,  exclaimed,  "  OU!  Wood- 


222  VALSINOKE. 

ville,  can  I  believe  what  I  have  seen,  what  I  now  sP/e  2*' 

»'  No,"  cried  !iis  wile,  chisping  her  hands  in  agouy, 
**  no,  no,  you  have  not  .sc<^n,  yoci  merely  fancied  that 
you  saw;  'twas  all  a  dream  j  you  did  not,  could  not, 
know  him." 

At  this  moment,  Wood  ville,  uncoverinp^  his  face,  cried, 
**  Do  not  talk  thus,  my  love  ;  for,  sunk  as  1  have  b'^en, 
wretched  as  1  must  be,  I  would  not  purciiase  existeniJ^ 
by  a  friend's  perjury." 

"  But  Sir  Frederic,"  she  cried,  «  has  assured  me 
there  can  be  no  other  evidence  produced."  At  tlie  name 
of  Sir  Frederic,  Altamont  listened  with  yet  stronger  in- 
terest;  and  he  now  learnt  that  Woodville,  who  had  re- 
turned but  a  few  weeks  before  from  the  West  Indies, 
had  been  recognized  by  De  Lille  in  the  gallery  of  the 
House  of  Commons  ;  and  being,  as  he  supposed,  traced 
to  his  lodging,  was  the  next  morning  apprehended  and 
taken  into  custody. 

After  his  commitment,  Sir  Frederic  had  visited  him 
in  prison,  professed  the  utmost  sorrow  for  his  situation, 
^nd  declared,  that  had  De  Lille  been  apprised  of  his  former 
intimacy  witli  Valiancy,  he  would  by  no  means  have  en- 
gaged in  the  prosecution.  He  added,  however,  that  as 
Altamont  had  been  sj  ated  to  be  the  only  witness  of  the 
fact,  it  was  impossible  to  criminate  him  without  his  tes- 
timony j  and  that  on  the  failure  of  such  evidence  he  must 
be  discharged  without  a  trial. 

Valiancy,  though  unable  to  prevail  on  himself  to  visit 
a  prison,  had  remitted  money  through  the  medium  of 
Sir  Frederic,  and  had  written  to  Geneva  to  acquaint 
Altamont  witii  the  melancholy  transaction,  and  to  pi*event 
his  immediate  return  to  England. 

Having  related  these  particulars,  Mrs.  Woodville, 
throwing  herself  at  Altamont's  feet,  exclaimed,  "  If  you 
are  seen  and  known  we  are  undone.  Forgive  this  im- 
portunity i  to  us  every  moment  is  precious  :  save  him, 
and  my  children  will  ever,  ever  bless  you." 

Here  the  little  boy  put  up  his  hands,  in  imitation  of 
Ms  mother,  whilst  the  father  exclaimed,  "  When  I  first 
tsmi  iuUier  she  believed  me  iimuceut  ^  wUcu  I  confess^ 


I 


i 


VALSINORE,  2JS 

C(l  all  to  her,  I  seemed  to  have  notliing  more  to  suffer. 
.Altamont!  should  I  die  by  your  evidence,  I  must  yet 
hlfss  you  as  my  preserver:  you  saved  me  from  that 
desperate  deed  :  your  voice  recalled  me  from  p*  idi- 
tion  r 

*'  Cease,  if  you  would  not  kill  me,"  cried  Mrs. 
W'oodville,  direct! U2J  an  imploring;  look  to  Aitamont. 

*<  Be  calm,  dear  Madam,  1  will  instantly  tly  from 
tills  country  :  from  me  you  shall  have  notliine;  to  fear  ;" 
then  hastily  unbolting  the  door,  ho  was  pnparing  to 
withdraw,  when,  to  his  consternation,  the  veneral)le  Hal- 
ler  entered.  A  deep  crimson  flushed  Woodville's  cheeks, 
and  his  wife  obseivinsj that  Altamont  was  known  to  the 
stranger,  staggered  to  a  seat,  and  sunk  down,  the  imag^c 
of  despondence. 

"  Am  I  quite  forgotten,"  said  the  sage,  with  a  mildly 
reproachful  aspect. 

"  Never,"  cried  Woodville,  «  never  can  I  forget  the 
debt  of  gratitude  1  owe  you." 

"  I  fear,"  said  Ualler,  <•  you  are  now  suffering  un- 
der still  greatei'  calamity  ;  but  you  are,  I  doubt  not, 
supported  by  the  consciousness  of  innocence," 

There  was  a  momentary  pause.  Mrs.  Woodville,  re- 
covering presence  of  mind,  exclaimed,  "  Oh  yes,  he  is, 
he  must  be  innocent." 

«  Then  fear  nothing ;  it  is  the  privilege  of  every 
Englisliman  to  be  protected  by  the  laws  of  his  country. 
If  this  charge  be  brought  forwai*d  in  malice,  it  will  be 
defeated  of  its  end." 

Here  Woodville,  raising  his  eyes,  whilst  hectic  color 
flushed  his  cheeks,  said,  "  Your  friend.  Sir,  can  best  ex- 
plain why  I  am  here  ;  and  as  the  hist  favor  I  shall,  per- 
haps, ever  ask,  L  earnestly  beseech  Mm  to  relate  to  you 
all  he  knows  of  this  unfoitunate  tiansHi^tioii." 

At  these  words  his  wife  relaps«'d  into  tei-ror ;  her 
limbs  shook — her  heart  beat  audibly — the  cold  <lr<)ps  of 
sweat  stood  on  her  forehead — her  lips  moved — she  strug- 
gled to  speak,  but  a  convulsive  groan  ahme  escaped 
her. 
.  ►.  «  My  love,  forgive  me,"  cried  Woodville  j  "but  I 


224  VALSIWOBE. 

would  not  tleceive  my  benefactor  for  worlds.  "Vo,  no," 
added  he,  his  eyes  once  more  bea'uing  witli  generous 
exultation,  "  there  is  a  point  of  degradation  not  to  be 
survived." 

Haller  now  comi)rehen(ling  the  whole,  taking  her 
hand  with  a  look  of  in  ftniiJe  benignity,  said,  ♦•  Be  com- 
forted, ^^c  are  all  faithfiii  fiiends." 

W  oodville  then  drew  from  his  pocket  an  ujifinished 
letter,  and,  giving  it  to  Altaniont,  said,  "  This  will  ex- 
plain what  cannot  be  excused." 

At  that  nictmeiit  lialierpronorinced  his  farewell  in  the 
most  soothing  accent.  Altaniont  ((.IJowed  liiu)  in  sih  Jice 
to  the  portal  of  the  prison,  wh<re  having  le-enteivd  the 
coach  that  was  in  waiting  for  thtni,  lie  dr;  w  up  both 
glasses,  and  leaned  back  in  his  seai  as  if  lie  had  still  been 
conscious  to  Mrs.  Woodville's  terrors.  After  a  mourn- 
ful pause,  he  began  to  relate  the  adventure  on  the  heath  ; 
but  suddenlj^  interrupting  himself,  exclaimed,  ♦♦  Akid  yet 
it  seems  but  a  dream, — the  man  to  whom  I  have  looked 
up  with  such  admiration  5  the  accon)plished  l>eing  to 
whose  precepts  i  have  so  often  listened  with  delight." 

*'  I  see,"  replied  Halier,  *<  how  it  has  been  :  you 
stall  alight  at  the  hotel,  whilst  I  return  to  the  prison, 
to  give  them  comfort :  wait  but  here  an  hour,  and  you 
shall  hear  what  has  passed." 

This  suggestion  was  pursued  ;  Altamont  withdrew  to 
a  private  a})ai  tment,  and  there  i*cad  tlie  following  letter : 

"  It  is  some  years  since  J  last  addressed  you  ; — to 
me  it  appears  to  have  been  many  «ges.  I  have  exi>e- 
rienced  such  awful  changes ;  I  have  fallen  into  such  an 
abyssof  misery  I  Scaic«  ly  w  ill  you  comprehend  by  what 
infatuation  I  have  been  involved  in  this  stupendous  ca- 
lamity. 

"  On  retracing  my  steps  T  am  astonished  T  could  have 
mistaken  my  duty  ;  the  ])ath  was  too  obvious  tx)  be  miss-' 
ed.  I  had  unhappily  cherished  a  sentiment  of  egotism, 
wliich  led  ii.c  to  ascribe  to  untoward  circumstances  all 
the  errors  in  my  conduct,  all  tlie  iniirmilies  of  mj  nature. 
At  |>res«  nt,  1u»w  light  ap])ear  those  evils  at  which  I  once 
le^uued;  aud  which  my  «wn  weakness  ixinUereU  omnipo* 


VALSTPJORE.  ft2S 

tent.  Oh  !  Altamont,  when  I  recollect  at  what  plian- 
tomsl  once  started,  by  what  chinicrical  bari-iers  1  was 
once  appalled  ;  and  Kxtk  at  tlie  substantial  walls  of  my 
prison,  and  feel  at  my  lieait  the  insufterable  woi.^lit  of 
remorse,  I  am  stiipificd  witli  .a:riif,  my  rfastn  is  shaken  ; 
I  lose  myself  in  dee])  and  feai  ful  amazement. 

**  The  true  source  of  my  misery  has  been  the  weak 
and  pernicious  indulij;ence  of  an  ardent  and  too  suscepti- 
ble imagination.  From  early  }outh,  whilst  I  basked  in 
the  sunshine  of  pros])erity,  1  was  accustomed  to  impov- 
erish my  stock  of  happiness  by  an  anxions  anticipation 
of  enjoyment :  at  that  period  when  I  was  called  amia- 
ble, and  Ihelan.^uage  of  candor  dwelt  on  my  lips,  I  har- 
bored a  fastidious  spirit,  repugnant  to  friendsliip  and 
benevolence  ;  1  mcasui-ed  character  by  other  rides  than 
those  of  truth  and  rectitude  ;  1  required  a  certain  fan- 
tastic elegance,  a  romamic  delicacy  and  refinement,  to 
excite  conficU'nce  and  aftVction  ;  and  seldom  could  any 
being  be  found  to  satisfy  my  visionary  expectation. 
Wlien  it  was  my  fortune  to  taste  of  adversity,  to  be  ex- 
posed to  trials  and  disappointments,  1  was  still  the  same 
creature  of  impulse,  the  fool  of  fancy,  the  victim  of  ca- 
price !  I  could  now  discein  the  modifications  of  egotism 
in  the  false  shame  shuddering  at  the  detection  of  povir- 
ty  ;  the  spurious  delicacy,  shrinking  from  exertion  ;  the 
mock  dignit} ,  not  oidy  i-efusing  st-licitatinn,  but  almost 
depreciating  assistance.  Whatever  '■  attempted,  failed; 
my  efforts  were  too  spiritl  ss  to  succeed,  (ften  were 
the  interests  of  my  Nvit»  an*}  c'- irien  sacrificed  to  the 
stubl)orn  pretensions  oi  priue,  iinti  the  puerile  affectation 
of  magnanimity. 

♦*  At  length,  when  I  saw  the  dear  infants  committed 
to  my  care,  witlirring  with  disease,  their  mother  faded, 
•  and  myself  vast!  ng  in  premature    decay,    1   becanu'  im- 
pressed with  a  drradful  ])resage,  that  1  was  destined  to 
commit  some  atrocious  crime. 

*'  In  vain  did  I  seek  t'>  escape  this  new  chimera  of  a 
restless  imagination.  Itwasadaik  speck  ever  fiitting 
before  my  sight ;  and  shuddering  at  the  penalties  of  re- 
morse, 1  longed  most  passionately  for  the  moment  of  my 


226  VALSTNORE. 

dissolution.  One  day  when  I  had  loft  home  to  attend 
a  few  ])u]nls,  and  iifteiwai'ds  failed  in  my  a])plifatinu 
for  money  which  was  really  owinj;  to  nie,  but  for  which 
I  still  wantvd  the  courai^e  to  proclaim  my  pressing  neces- 
sities: it  siiddenl_y  occurred  to  me,  that  if  1  was  to  leave 
Londiin  and  enter  as  a  sailor,  I  should,  at  least,  escape 
the  ignominy  of  a  jail,  with  which  I  had  heen  repeatedr- 
ly  menaced  by  an  impatient  creditor.  I  had  been  wan- 
dering all  the  day,  and,  on  returning  in  the  evening, 
fancied  1  caught  a  glimpse  of  your  face,  and  that  you 
looked  after  me  as  if  you  exj^ected  a  I'ecognition  •,  to 
escape  such  notice,  I  proceeded  in  an  opposite  direction 
from  my  own  habitation,  to  the  west  en(l  of  the  town  : 
from  a  sudden  im])ti!se  of  desperation,  I  placed  myself 
on  the  top  of  one  of  the  public  stages,  and  v  as  conveyed, 
before  morning,  to  a  considerable  distance  fron)  London. 
Luckily  I  had  left  it  doubtful  whether  to  return  to  my 
wife  on  that  evening  ;  I  therefore  trusted  she  would  not 
experience  much  solicitude  for  my  absence.  I  proceed- 
ed without  any  settled  purpose  to  an  obscure  village,  and 
there  finding  my  money  reduced  to  one  shilling,  and 
having  nothing  in  my  pocket  but  a  pistol,  which  with 
superfluous  caution  I  had  been  accustomed  to  carry  with 
me  in  m\  little  excursions  nearLondcm,  J  alighted  ;  and 
having  pi'oeured  bread  to  satisfy  hunger,  sti-uck  into  the 
neigliboring  fields,  and  there  spent  several  hours  in 
gloon-y  solitude,  abandoned  to  the  most  dark  and  teri'ible 
inediliitions. 

*•  Hitherto,  ardently  as  1  lonsed  for  death,  the  idea 
of  SM?ci(le  had  never  been  admiti* d  to  my  mind.  The 
rites  ifourcliurch  had  rendered  i(  aldiorr-nt  to  my 
thoiiglits  ;  but  now.  that  the  self-erealed  nhnntou*  ofim- 
agiiiiition  pursued  my  stej)S.  thai  the  sciift'  Id  or  the  gib- 
hi-L  rose  l)efore  my  e}(s.  that  I  sjin  u»y  children  srigma- 
tisi  d  for  m,»  \Yjetch"<I  sjike,  I  resisted  no  htnger  :  I  even 
bill -ved  they  woiJd  find  f»  lends  when  I  was  no  longer 
with  ihem  }  and  tirat  the  CMise  bv  w'lich  J  was  pursued 
Wi)i.|:)  b'i  p  jtealed  wIi'mi  nr,  fate  ^\'.\-:  sevrd  f'^n  iheii-s. 
Froi.:  Miis  s«:,i!-;:estior3 1  .si:m>!  d  Ci  i!(i;ge.  p.nd  en'-,  waited 
for  a  favorable  luoiiicnt  to  fulfil  m^    awful  purpose.     At 


VALsiNeRE.  22ir 

this  moment  T  was  accosted  by  a  bci^^ar  woman,  with 
two  liili>lrss  ijilanis,  soliciting  my  cliiu ity  ;  I  stalled 
from  lur  witii  hoi ror ;  nij  own  wile  and  lailKrlcss  cliiU 
drcii  came  before  my  eyes  !  1  cursed  my  coNMirdly  piir- 
pose  of  dcscition  ;  and  i-ushing  towards  (he  heath,  ox- 
chumed,  •  llather  let  me  perish  for  their  sake  in  fulfill- 
ing my  destiny.'  *#*#**  Al(an)ont,  you 
can  fill  u|)  lliis  blank.  Y^m  well  know  wliosi-  voice  ar- 
rested my  hand,  and  recalli'd  me  to  reason  and  nature. 
I  instantly  retin-ncd  to  the  road,  an<l,  sacrificing  pride 
to  duty,  solicited  and  obtained  a  gratuitous  convey  anco 
to  London. 

*•  When  I  arrived,  it  was  yet  early  j  I  scarcely  ven- 
tured to  hojje  1  sliould  find  any  one  risen  in  our  habita- 
tion ;  I  even  dreaded  to  enouire  for  my  wife.  J  Mas 
prepossessed  with  the  idia  that  some  new  calamity  had 
befallen  hei*  in  my  absence.  I  approached  the  house 
with  trembling  liml)s ;  1  scarce  lifted  the  knocker,  and 
then  di'opped  it  with  a  most  feeble  sound  ;  but  it  was 
suflicieiit  for  my  wife's  wakeful  ear,  she  hurried  down 
stairs,  she  could  scarcely  contain  her  transports  at  my 
return.  My  first  impulse  of  joy  was  quickly  clianged 
for  contrition  and  remorse;  1  evaded  iier  enquirirs.  but 
I  could  not  silence  her  rapturous  exclamations  f  >r  my 
safe!} .  I  secretly  blessed  lieaven  fm*  my  escap*' ;  I  won- 
dered at  my  own  pervcision  and  delusion;  and  vowed 
never  again  to  desert  her. 

1  was  soothing  her  with  these  assurances  when  the 
door  was  opened,  and  after  the  circumlocution  usual  in 
S»ieh  Ciises,  the  writ  was  served,  (in  vvliich  I  was  con- 
ducted to  prison,  but  almost  immediately  liberated  by 
the  munilieence  of  a  venerable  man,  who  had  no  sooner 
learnt  that  you  had  been  my  friend,  than  he  became  my 
ben*  factor." 

Here  the  letter  broke  off.  Altamont  wns  still  musing 
on  its  contents,  when  Haller  re-entered  ;  from  whom 
he  harnt  that  Woodville  was  to  he  remanded  to  the  pri- 
son olth''  county  where  the  oflenee  sviis  committed  ;  liQ 
added,  that  they  had  settled  a  plan  for  future  corres- 
pondence ;  on  his  discharge  he  was  to  leave  Eogland ; 


228  VAL81N0RE, 

"  and  then,"  added  llallcr,  *'  you  will  be  at  liberty  to 
return  to  it.  Iji  t!u-  niCrtntinie,  you  could  c  ihbok  me 
mucli  by  partaking  my  jouriuy  -,  ajid  I  tliink  it  nmy  open 
to  J  on  new  sources  of  pleasure  and  intorniation."  To 
this  proposal  .Vltaujont  returned  a  grate  fisl  aetiuicsceuee, 
and  in  a  few  iiours  they  left  London  together. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

CORDELIA  was  naturally  so  ingenuous,  that  she 
expeiionced  pec-iliur  pain  in  submitting  to  concealment  j 
confidence  was  lier  eh  ment ;  and  though  long  accustom- 
ed to  subdue  h'-r  will,  she  knew  not  hi>w  to  suppress  her 
feelings  ;  happily,  the  irksomeness  of  her  situation  was 
soficnpd  by  t!it  ingenious  expedient  of  keeping  a  short- 
hand jf.i  rn;tl,  wl:ich  being  written  in  a  character  she 
had  learn:  from  Altamont,  seemed  to  establish  a  certain- 
tacit  con;munication  between  them. 

The  f  IJowing  extracts  from  this  »Rcret  register  of 
sentiment,  will  sufficiently  prove  how  little  time  and  ab- 
sence 1  ad  diminislied  his  influence  on  her  affections. 

*<  Another  day,  another  Meek  is  gone,  and  like  the 
fornio!-  has  not  h  ft  one  vestige  of  its  course.  I  seem  to 
myself  to  be  in  a  sort  of  trance,  in  which  my  most  ac- 
tive faculties  are  suspended.  Those  I  meet  with  to-day 
I  sbrdl  forget  to-iuorrow ,  and  shoidd  1  even  live  with 
them  a  century,  1  should  still  know  them  as  little  as  at 
this  moment :  every  thing  is  vague,  desultory,  and  sha- 
dovvy;  the  phantonis  are  forever  changing;  my  own 
sadness  remains  the  same.  A  year  ago,  how  different 
were  my  feelings;  how  delightful  was  the  month  into 
which  we  ar-  n«)w  enteiing.  IJttle  do  those  about  me 
auspect  my  r  al  motiv«  fcr  deciiiiing  to  join  the  brilliant 
paj  I V  for  this  evening.  1  could  not  support  the  contrast 
pr  >•«  nt;  <]  by  H  r<om  croiuled  with  iniliff  rent  spectators, 
to  the  recoUectio;!  of  that  delicious  scene  which  nature. 


TALSINORB  229 

formed  for  our  hearts,  on  which  wc  hoth  gazed  with  such 
dcliglit.  It  was  there  thaleonfulcnce  was  tstablished  be- 
tween us,  and  we  became  frienils.  It  appears  to  me 
tliat  life  connucnced  but  from  that  moment  j  and  I  liold 
its  aimiversary  too  sacred  to  be  wasted  in  frivolous 
amusement. 

"  How  little  do  tliey  know  my  heart,  who  think  that 
its  affections  can  be  checked  by  so  poor  a  thing  as  vanity. 
They  tell  me  he  is  susceptible  of  impressions ;  that  he 
has  been  often  touched,  but  never  attached  ;  that  he  re- 
sists love,  and  that  ambition  is  the  master  passion  of  his 
soul.  1  can  listen  to  all  this  with  patience,  and  even 
with  docility ;  and  yet  is  my  faith  unshaken  in  the  rec- 
titude  of  bis  jninciples,  his  honor,  and  integrity.  How, 
indeed,  should  I  exact  constancy  fi'om  one,  w  ho  receiv- 
ed no  hope?  How  should  I  expect  him  to  waste  in  fojid 
futile  repinings  those  best  and  most  piecious  years  of  his 
existence  ?  It  would  ill  become  him  to  yield  to  such 
weakness.  IIow"  many  women  will  he  find  to  console 
him  for  her  he  once  loved  ?  Yes,  it  is  proper  he  slioukl 
respect  himself,  and  act  up  to  his  dignity  ;  but  with  me 
the  case  is  quite  otherwise.  To  what  purpose  should  I 
seek  to  wean  my  heart  from  him,  who  first  infused  into 
it  the  love  of  virtue  ?  For  w  hom  should  I  reclaim  those 
long  dedicated  affettions  ?  For  an  establishment,  a  title, 
a  name  ?  Oh  how  shall  I  learn  to  discover  in  these  an 
equivalent  for  Herbert  ?  To  forget  him,  w  ould  be  a  de- 
relictioji  of  principle  and  sentiment,  a  degradation  of 
character,  an  a]>ostacy  equally  base  and  contemptible. 
What  a  perve»,jion  of  language,  to  talk  of  enjoying  hap- 
piness with  any  but  the  beings  we  love  !  Happiness  ? 
it  is  surely  an  arbitrary  idiom  ;  I  lose  all  conception  of 
its  meaning,  |^  hen  Adela  tells  me,  Sir  Frederic  Mow- 
bray is  formed  to  give  me  happiness.  I  am  not  consci- 
ous tiiat  I  cherish  any  pn  judiee  agaiiist  liini.  I  can  as- 
sent to  all  the  good  she  reports  of  this  man ;  and  yet  he 
wants  that  openness  of  countenance,  that  manly  frank- 
ness, that  energy  of  thought  and  feeling,  which  can 
alone  inspire  my  confidence.  He  is  too  cautious,  too 
circumspect,  too  measured,  too  elaborate,  I  will  not  say 

U 


^ 


230  VALSINORE. 

artificial,  to  give  me  ploasui'c.  A  week  has  been  spent 
in  dissipation,  and,  nirtl)inks,  I  was  never  more  com- 
pletely in  solitude,  i  endeavor  to  conceal  wliat  >vould 
be  called  extravaj^ance  and  romance.  I  would  not  grieve 
my  father  by  declaring;  that  sjdendor  oppresses  me  with 
fatigue.  1  will  not  shock  Adela  by  confessing  that  all  I 
ha\e  seen  in  this  great  city,  would  not  compensate  for 
the  sacrafice  of  one  dear  quiet  delicious  hour  at  Beach- 
dal' .  If  1  siiould  be  called  romantic,  1  cannot  help  it.  I 
am  incapable  of  altering  my  tastes  ;  pleasure  must  be 
spontanetjus ;  [  cannot  force  my  heart  to  dance  with 
hope,  to  throb  witb  delight.  A  year  ago,  those  sensa- 
tions came  to  it  without  a  prompter. 

«'  The  knot  is  tied.  Adela  will,  I  trust,  be  happy 
with  her  Valiancy  i  gay,  I  should  rather  say,  since  nei- 
ther of  them  seems  to  understand  the  pensive  spirit  of 
happiness.  They  know  not  how  much  two  intelligent 
hearts  can  bestow.  There  is  a  little  world  within  the  soul, 
to  which  they  have  nevei*  penetrated ;  it  was  surely  re- 
served for  the  unprosperous,  or  those,  at  least,  who  have 
no  part  in  the  revolutions  of  fortune.  It  is  the  paradise 
of  adversity,  into  which  the  great  cannot  entei*. 

*'  This  Sir  Fredeiic  gives  me  pain ;  his  attentions 
are  now  too  marked  to  be  mistaken  ;  yet,  will  he  not  be 
explicit  enough  to  allow  me  the  privilege  of  explanation. 
I  have  repeatedly  avowed  before  him,  my  election  of  the 
single  state  :  he  has  seen  with  what  firmness  I  withstood 
raillery  and  even  reproach ;  he  will,  perhaps,  spare  us 
the  mutual  pain  of  I'ejection.  I  fear  my  father  is  inter- 
ested in  his  success.  How  often  have  I  wished  that  he 
had  another  daughter,  who  could  enter  into  his  views  of 
life,  and  gratify  that  ambition  of  which  I  am  unable  to 
participate  !  I  am  grieved  to  discover  this  eternal  bar- 
rier between  us  :  sonn^times  he  looks  at  me  \\ith  such 
pleasaie,  and  so  kindly  anticipates  my  wishes ;  he  even 
permits  me  to  be  bis  almoner,  he  desires  me  to  distribute 
a  part  of  his  property  in  charity.  In  such  moments  I 
"^vould  give  the  world  to  make  him  happy ;  every  thing 
but  my  heart,  and  that  is  inalienable." 
I    mmediatcly  on  the  marriage  of  Valiancy  and  Miss 


VALSINOBE.  U.oi 

Rouvigny,  tlicy  set  out  accompanied  by  Cordelia,  on  a 
tour  throiigli  WaUs,  tVoni  wiienc-  they  proceeded  to  Ire- 
land, with  the  inteniion  of  spending  some  months  among 
the  beautiful  scenes  of  Killarney. 

The  bride  had  a  villa  in  the  nei;^hborhood  of  Mucruss  ; 
wliieh  having  been  her  fatlier's  bii'th  place,  was  on  that 
account  particularly  selected  for  t!uM!-  retreat.  It  was 
a  house  in  the  cottage  style,  einctcd  at  the  foot  f  Green- 
hill,  and  commanded  various  interesting  views  of  the 
lake. 

Cordelia  was  charmed  with  the  retreat ;  but  she  soon 
found  that  it  was  suftlciently  accessible  to  society.  Sev- 
eral of  Vallanc\'s  acquaintance  were  in  the  neighbor- 
liood  as  tourists  ;  with  whom  many  parties  Wi-re  formed, 
and  many  aquatic  excuisions  pi-ojected.  The  first  week 
brought  another  visitor,  who,  to  tiie  Valiancy's  at  least, 
was  neither  unexpected  nor  unwelcome  :  this  \\as  Sir 
Fi*ederic  Mowbray,  who  had  suddeidy  discovered  some 
serious  call  of  business  to  Dubliju  and  most  ingeniously 
contrived  that  his  friend  De  Lille  should  have  the  same 
motives  for  taking  the  journey.  Sym]»athy  did  not.  how- 
ever, conduct  the  latter  to  Gi-eenhill  ;  he  contiiitod  him- 
self with  paying  a  visit  to  one  of  Sir  Frederic's  friends, 
at  about  forty  miles  distance,  where  he  was  sufticiently 
near  to  watch  the  progiess  of  his  suit,  and  to  aid  it  with 
all  his  parental  influence.  As  he  was  persuaded  tliat 
Cordelia  iiad  no  correspondence  with  Alfanuynt,  the  Ba- 
ronet hoped  to  find  her  disposed  to  rec<'ive  impressions 
in  his  own  favor;  he  trusted  she  would  be  stimulated  by 
picpie  or  jealousy,  or  ambition,  to  give  him  encourage- 
ment; hut  he  VNas  deceived  ;  her  rejection  was  decided, 
though  softened  with  assurances  of  esteem,  and  profess- 
ions of  friendshij). 

Cordelia  imagined  he  ])rofessed  too  much  delicacy  and 
generosity  to  persist  in  his  im]»ortunities  ;  but  she  also 
was  deceived  :  he  renewed  his  S(dicitations,  enforced 
with  all  the  elo({uence  of  Mrs.  Valiancy  ;  ho  even  ])ro- 
tested  he  should  relinquisji  ho])e,  but  with  life. 

Cordelia,  shuddering  at  his  vehemence,  exclaimed, 
«  When  you  know  all,  you  \\  ill  retract  this  sentiment." 

U3 


233  VAISINORB. 

For  the  first  time  it  occurred  to  him,  that  she  miglrt 
liave  formed  some  clandestine  engagement,  and  he  cried 
with  unguarded  warmth,  *<  Sui-ely  you  cannot  belong 
to  another?" 

"  I  will  not  deceive  you.  I  have  formed  no  engage- 
ment, btit  to  you  I  dare  not  be  disingenuous..  You  ask- 
ed for  my  heart,  and  it  cannot  be  given  twice.  After 
this  frankness,  you  will  not  1  am  sure  renew  the  only 
subject  which  can  ever  make  a  breach  in  our  friendship." 

Disconcerted  by  her  ingenuous  simplicity,  he  took  her 
offered  hand  in  sullen  silence  j  but  soon  recollecting  him- 
self, replied,  "  But  if  that  heart  should  be  reclaimed, 
should  you  be  but  once  convinced,  that  it  lias  been  thrown 
away  on  one  who  cares  not  for  the  gem  1  would  give  my 
life  to  purchase  ;  should  it  be  proved  that  the  man  pre- 
ferred to  me  is  an  ungrateful  prodigal,  will  you  then^ 
Cordelia,  condemn  me  to  despair  ?" 

"  I  did  not  expect.  Sir,  my  frankness  would  extort 
such  cruel  insinuations,  but  the  heart  which  had  been 
so  blasted  would  be  unworthy  of  your  acceptance ;  and 
pardon  me  if  I  add,  that  were  I  once  so  cruelly  deceiv- 
ed, I  vshould  lose  all  faith  in  human  virtue." 

Sir  Frederic  perceiving  he  had  gone  too  far,  passi« 
onately  conjured  her  to  projiounce  his  pardon. 

<•'  Well,  then,  let  all  the  past  be  consigned  to  oblivi- 
on ;  let  this  be  a  farewell  to  the  subject." 

"  It  will  be  more  easy  to  say  farewell  to  life,  Corde- 
lia." 

She  left  him  witli  extreme  sadness  ;  seriously  alarmed 
by  his  perseverance,  and  anxious  to  extinguish  those 
Lopes  she  could  not  realize.  She  immediately  wrote  to 
lier  father,  avowing  what  had  past,  and  intreating  his 
permission  to  return  with  him  to  England.  Though 
naturally  timid,  the  apprehension  of  exciting  his  dis- 
pleasure, was  less  powerful  than  the  dread  of  failing  in 
lier  own  internal  fidelity  to  Altamont.  Foi"  (he  rest  of 
the  day,  she  avoided  her  importunate  lover;  and  in  the 
evening,  when  the  company  went  as  usual  on  the  lakcj 
contrived  to  se])arate  herself  from  him  entirely,  by  going 
in  another  barge.    Vexed  at  this  desertion,  he  proposed 


v.iisiyoRE.  23.» 

to  Mrs.  Valiancy  to  land  at  the  peninsnla,  to  explore  tlic 
habitation  of  a  recluse,  who  liad  for  some  time  lixeU  in 
this  neij^hborhood.  Th{>iii2;h  averse  to  society,  he  had 
been  occasionally  met  in  his  lonely  rambles,  and  was  of- 
ten seen  in  a  light  boat,  navigated  by  an  Irish  boy,  wlio 
formed  part  of  his  small  houshold.  He  was  supposed  to 
be  fond  of  music,  as  tlie  minstrels  of  Killarney  were  of- 
ten hired  to  play  on  the  lake,  which  was  at  a  short  dis- 
tance from  his  sequestered  dwelling.  Mrs.  Valiancy's 
curiosity  being  strongly  excited  by  this  description,  the 
whole  party  landed  at  Caniillan  point.  The  ])ath  run- 
ning over  a  ledge  of  rocks,  proved  tedious  and  fatiguing. 
Valiancy  at  length  observe<l,  he  saw  ?io  vestige  of  any 
human  habilition.  "  Yet,"  iTplied  Sir  Frederic,  •«  you 
are  now  within  a  few  paces  of  the  entrance;  that  ash 
tree  springs  from  the  rock  which  conceals  the  roof." 

Mrs.  Valiancy  advanced  with  ivdoubled  eagerness, 
when  lo  !  in  the  narrow  pass  before  them  appeared  two 
men  bearing  a  coffin,  which  was  destined  f  >r  the  recluse. 
At  this  unwelcome  sight  she  started,  and  insisted  on 
turning  back  ;  she  even  returned  w  ith  precipitation,  and 
eagerly  seated  h<istlfin  the  barge,  as  if  she  still  feared 
she  was  pursued  by  tlic  image  of  death.  During  this  in- 
terruption. Sir  Frederic  regained  his  accustomed  station 
by  Cordelia.  Some  of  the  company  waited  foi*  the  re- 
turn of  the  two  men,  from  whom  they  learnt,  that  the 
deatli  of  the  recluse  was  occasioned  by  his  having  fallen, 
a  few  days  before,  from  the  cliff;  some  internal  injury 
having  catised  Ids  dissolution. 

"  llis  name,"  said  Sir  Fi'ederic,  observing  she  was 
interested  in  the  subject,  *•  was  as  singular  as  his  cha- 
racter :  he  was  called  Valsinore.'* 

«  Valsiuore !"  eclioed  Cordelia,  with  unutterable  as- 
tonishment, •<  arc  you  siu'e  it  was  Valsinore  ?" 

«  Yes,  that  was  the  name.'* 

Is  it  possil)lc.  thought  she,  it  should  have  been  Alta- 
mont's  mysti'rious  friend  ?  SJic  w as  more  reserved  than 
ever  to  Sir  Frederic.  The  name  of  V.ilsinore  brought 
Altamont  before  her  eyes ;  and  she  could  scarcely  feci 
cumplacciicy  for  bis  rival.    She  was  otTeudeU  with  iu^ 

US 


\r,i 


23*  VALSIXORE. 

po)'severanpp  ^  sl»c  secnlly  accused  liim  of  wanting  deli- 
cacy iind  .^iiivicsily  ;  and  nrithcr  looked  at  liiiu  nor 
sp  ke  to  !iif:.,  but  ^^i{h  npiiuMiiiiice. 

That  ni.u,!it  Cordelia  felicitated' herself  in  her  journal, 
on  having  taken  the  first  stej)s  to  ciii'e  iiis  passion  ;  but 
tlie  next  morning  slic  was  not  a  little  suipiiscd  to  find 
him  missing  at  tlic  breakfast  table.  Mrs.  Valiancy  in- 
formed lier  with  much  ciiagrin,  that  he  had  left  the  house 
at  day  break,  and  witiiout  any  intimaticm  of  his  return. 
*:*  I  am  grieved,  (wrote  Cordelia,)  tltat  I  treated  an  old 
friend  with  such  iinkindness  :  why  wotdd  he  not  sooner 
pi'ove  that  he  possessed  delicacy  and  generosity  ?  Me- 
tliinks  I  would  fain  sooth  liim  with  renewed  assurances 
of  my  esteem  a»id  friendship.'*  These  reflections  pre- 
vented her  not  from  thinking  of  Valsinore  :  but  the  sub- 
ject was  distasteful  to  Adela,  and  the  house  was  full  of 
company,  and  resounded  with  music  and  merriment. 

On  the  third  evening  after  Sir  Frederic's  departure^ 
she  excused  hei-self  from  attending  her  friends  on  the 
lake,  and  indulged  her  pensiveness  with  a  ramble  to 
^lucruss  Abbey  ;  once  the  venerable  seat  of  njonastic 
learning,  and  still  the  popular  place  of  interment.  On 
approaching  these  venerable  \yalls  she  passed  an  oak> 
that  appeared  coeval  with  their  foundation  ;  and  on  en- 
tering the  grove  of  ash-trees  leading  to  the  church,  she 
seemed  to  have  suddenly  plunged  into  tl»c  shades  of 
night :  she  found  the  doojs  of  the  Abbey  open  ;  a  funer- 
al procession  having  just  crossed  the  cloister,  towards 
the  cemetery,  unattended  by  the  crouds  and  boisterous 
clamors  s')  common  \Aith  the  Irisli  people.  The  pall  had 
fcutfo'.r  supporters,  and  was  followed  by  as  many  mourn- 
ers* whrse  siknc'-^  deepened  the  iiupressions  of  religious 
solemnity.  Cordelia  approaclied  with  secret  awe  the 
patriarciifl  yew,  whose  dusky  foliage,  fitfully  moved  by 
the  hat's  r;  stling  [nidons,  threw  over  the  antique  pillarsv 
and  e.e"'  1  ng  eclioing  aisle,  a  sortof  supeistitious  gloom 
and  f  a.  f  il  obscurity  :  whilst  every  object  presented  an 
imatie  of  deaths  or  a  memorial  of  desolation.  She  ad- 
"vaneod  t(;  the  narrow  postern  through  which  the  ])rocess- 
km  Liad  Uisappc^'cd;  and  wUkli  evidently  conducted  t^ 


VALo..; 

the  clianibers  of  tlse  dead.  As  slsc  lins^rrod  near  the 
portal,  slic  recalled  Altanifnif's  dt sciiptioii  oi"  his  scnsa- 
tious Oil  desce.idin.e:  to  IleiTulaiieuin  ;  and  \v;is  still  me- 
ditating; on  tills  siihject,  when  the  procession  rc-ciossed 
the  eloistei',  and  she  observed  that  one  ol"  the  mourners 
was  missijry; ;  it  innnedlately  occurred  to  her.  that  he 
was  perhaps  the  only  one  really  interested  iii  the  late  of 
the  deceased,  and  that  he  had  returned  to  the  j^rave  to 
weep  unobserved.  Touched  with  this  reflection,  she 
waited  for  liis  return,  till  she  fancied  she  heard  a  deep 
e,roan  ;  pity  giviii!^  her  courage,  siic  was  advancing  to- 
wards the  passage  whence  the  sound  proceeded,  when 
she  felt  her  arm  grasped,  and  turning  round,  beheld  Sic 
Frecki'ic  Mowbray.  It  lequired  some  foiiitude  to  su])- 
press  the  cmotipn  of  terror  this  sudden  ajiparition  exci- 
ted; but  her  own  agitation  seemed  not  equal  to  his.  He 
trembled  as  he  drew  her  away,  exclaiming,  *'  Cordelia, 
whither  arc  you  going  ?  let  me  bear  you  from  this  house 
of  death."  She  was  at  first  ])assivc  from  surprise  ;  but 
when  she  reached  the  extremity  of  the  cloister,  she  re- 
collected the  groan,  and  enti'cated  him  to  return  to  the 
assistance  of  the  solitary  nmurner, 

**  Let  me  first  see  you  in  safety,"  replied  he,  hurry- 
ing her  on,  till  they  again  emergc^l  to  the  open  day, 
where  she  pei-ceived  De  Lille,  who,  at  Sir  Frederic's 
request,  undei-took  to  explore  the  cloisters,  whilst  he 
attended  (Cordelia  to  the  cottage. 

*<  In  their  way  he  informed  her,  that  having  met  with 
her  father  on  his  way  to  Dublin,  he  had  returned  witli 
liim  to  Greepjiill.  "  Not,"  added  he  reproachfully, 
<«  again  to  offend  you  with  my  importunities  :  1  am  go- 
ing to  another  part  of  the  country.  I  should  not  even 
have  staid  here  one  night,  had  I  not  been  alarmed  for 
your  safety,  by  hearing  of  your  solitary  ramble." 

"  And  what  danger  could  be  apprehended  in  this 
peaceful  sjiot  ?" 

"  Oh,  there  is  danger  every  where. — Have  you  seen 
no  one  ?" 

*♦  Only  a  funeral  procession." 
*'  And  had  yon  I'Cidly  no  motive  for  visiting  tjiis 
spot  V* 


.;  VAISINOKE. 

«  What  motive  should  I  have  ?  I  know  no  one  ;  and 
have  not  exchanged  a  syllable  with  one  human  being." 

Evidently  re'lieved  by  tiiis  assurance,  he  endeavored 
to  divert  her  attention  to  anotlier  subject,  by  observing, 
that  the  funcnil  she  had  seen  was  that  of  the  recluse. 

'<  How  !"  cried  Cordelia,  ♦<  of  Valsinoi'e  !  and  have 
I  unconsciously  followed  him  to  his  grave  ?" 

**  And  what  interest  then  liave  you  in  his  name  ?" 

*«  Oh,  the  strongest  interest  possible  ;  but  it  is  not  my 
own  secret,  and  I  have  nu  right  to  divulge  that  of  ano- 
ther." 

Sir  Frederic  again  eyed  her  with  suspicion,  and  walk- 
ed by  her  side  in  gloomy  silence.  AVIien  they  reached 
the  house,  they  foujid  the  Vallaneys,  who  rallied  her  on 
her  taste  for  solitude  ;  but  cordially  welcomed  back  her 
companion.  Scarcely  waiting  to  receive  their  compli- 
ments, he  hurried  out  to  meet  De  Lille,  with  whom  he 
at  length  returned,  with  a  still  more  perturbed  aspect. 
After  the  first  salutations,  De  Lille  announced  his  inten- 
tion of  taking  back  his  daughter  to  England.  Mrs. 
Valiancy  protested  it  was  impossible:  but  Cordelia  in- 
sisted on  obeying  her  father's  summons, 

"  It  is  true,*'  said  he,  "  I  am  come  rather  abruptly  : 
but  I  do  not  despair  of  restoring  her  to  you  a  few 
Aveeks  hence.  I  have  at  present  serious  motives  for 
claiming  her  society." 

Mrs.  Valiancy  again  resisted  :  but  when  she  heard  it 
was  his  intention  to  commence  the  journey  on  the  mor- 
row evening,  she  became  almost  offended  ;  since  she 
had  formed  a  party  for  Innisfallen,  and  could  not  sub- 
mit to  Cordelia's  absence.  De  Lille  was  at  length  com- 
pelled to  promise  that  she  should  partake  of  the  excur- 
sion, before  Adela  would  be  appeased.  He  then  drew 
his  daughter  aside,  and  said  *<  You  see,  Cordelia,  what 
1  do  to  oblige  you." 

**  And  1  trust  you  will  not  find  me  ungratefid." 

«  But  if  1  was  destined  to  fly  to  another  country — if 
I  was  forced  to  go  to  France  instead  of  England^  would 
you  s- ill  accompany  me  ?" 

^  Can  my  father  ask  that  question  ?'^ 


VALSli*  / 

**  You  would   not  then  repine    at    exile  ?'* 

«  Not  with  my  father." 

«  Well,  be  ready  for  your  departure ;  we  must  com- 
mence oui"  journey  to-morrow  evening.  I  have  been  un- 
fortunate, but  whilst  I  have  such  a  daughtpr  I  shall  not 
be  unhappy." 

Cordelia,  who  had  expected  reproofs  and  displeasure, 
was  so  touched  with  this  unlooked  for  kituhiess,  that  she 
melted  into  tears.  The  solitary  mourner  and  the  rt^cluso 
were  dismissed  from  her  mind ;  even  the  intim^nco  of 
Altamont  yielded  for  the  present  to  her  filial  sentiments  : 
and  she  loujsjed  most  ardently  to  discover  the  cause  of 
her  father's  uneasiness,  and  to  administer  sympathy 
and  consolation. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

ON  his  late  rejection.  Sir  Frederic  had  immediately 
re])aired  to  the  house  at  which  De  Lille  was  visitina:,  to 
consult  with  him  on  the  best  means  of  vanquishing  his 
daugliter's  inflexibility.  The  disappointed  fatlier,  who 
had  just  received  her  application  for  permission  to  re- 
turn with  him  to  England,  at  first  suggested  schemes  of 
severity  ;  but  to  this  Sir  Frederic  would  by  no  means 
consent :  he  insisted  that  lie  should  have  recourse  to  ar- 
tifice and  address,  and  rather  operate  on  her  generosity 
than  her  timidity.  It  was  then  agreed,  that  he  should 
acquiesce  in  her  present  wishes  ;  but  that  in  taking  her 
to  England  he  shovdd  communicate  an  exaggerated  ac- 
count of  his  lossi  s  at  play,  confcssijig  he  was  under  the 
strongest  obligations  to  Sir  Frederic's  liberality. 

"  And  what  do  you  expect  from  this  plan  ?"  asked 
De  Lille. 

**  Every  thing,  if  you  manage  wisoly  :  for  t!ie  pres- 
cnt,  however,  you  cannot  be  too  prompt  in  conveying  her 
from  Ireland. 


•-7 


VAISINORE. 


De  Lille  submitted  to  this  advice,  and  they  travelled 
together  towards  Grecnhill ;  when  stopping  at  Rillaniey 
t<)  give  some  orders  lespecting  letters,  they  saw  entering 
the  inn  a  person  in  whom  they  easily  recognised  Altaniont. 

At  this  unwelcome  apparition  iSir  Frederic  exclidmed, 
«  We  arc  betrayed ;  he  has  carried  on  a  clandestine 
correspondence  with  Cordelia." 

<*  In  that  case,''  said  De  Lille,  «  she  would  not  have 
X^'ished  to  leave  Grecnhill." 

"  You  are  mistaken  ;  that  is  merely  a  feint  to  amuse 
you,  whilst  she  cimcerts  a  plan  for  the  elojienjent." 

"  My  dear  Sir  Frederic,  this  is  so  extravagant,  so 
totally  unsiiited  to  her  character,  I  will  pledge  myself 
his  appearance  is  accidental." 

He  then  pi'ivately  applied  to  the  landlady,  from  whom 
he  learnt  that  Altaniont  had  been  for  several  weeks  in  tli« 
habit  of  frequenting  her  house,  from  whence  he  was  ac- 
customed to  make  excursions  in  the  mountains  of  Kerry, 
Be  was  just  returned  from  a  long  pilgrimage  to  Ivei-agh, 
and  was  to  sleep  at  the  iim  that  night,  but  on  the  next 
in(;rni ng  to  take  liis  depai'ture  to  explore  the  beauties  of 
thelak«s,  De  Lille  insisted  on  this  circumstance  asf  a 
proof  of  his  daiightcr's  innocence  Sir  Frederic's  suspi- 
ci.  ns  were  athngth  appeased;  and  as  they  proceeded 
to  Grrenliiil,  it  was  deti'rmined  that  no  time  should  be 
lost  in  transporting  C  )rdelia  to  some  spot  where  she 
Woi.M  be  in  no  danger  i>f  meeting  with  Altaniont. 

On  their  arrival  tliey  were  almost  equ.iliy  alarmed  to 
find  her  absent,  and  l)otb  were  again  leadv  to  impute  to 
her  the  most  com|!iicated  d  iplicity.  Luckily,  a  servant, 
whom  she  had  past  in  her  lonely  walk,  was  enabled  to 
apprize  them  of  her  uDvements.  and  by  his  direction 
thi'v  traced  her  to  the  al»i»e_v,  whcie  her  ina:eniious simpli- 
city almost  dissipated  Sir  Frederic's  former  im|)ressio«is» 
Hecuncurre(!,  Iiowever,  strongly  with  De  Lille  in  con- 
ceiving it  Ui  cessary  to  remove  her  immediately  from 
Greenhill.  Tlie  latter  having  lately  been  engaged  as  se- 
cond in  an  affair  of  honor,  was  to  allege  the  necessity  of 
witbdiawing  for  some  time  to  France.  Cordelia  was  to 
be  tiie  companion  of  his  flight :  Sir  Frederic  was  to  join 


VAtSINORE.  239 

them  at  a  convenient  season,  when  either  artifice  or  per- 
secution was  to  extort  licr  consent  to  tlicir  union.  Had 
Dc  Lille  ti'usted  iini)licitly  to  his  (laughter's  integrity,  he 
would  have  revolted  from  so  desperate  an  expedient ; 
but,  duj)ed  by  iiis  own  artilice,  he  was  incai)able  of  gi  ne- 
rous  confidence,  and  doubted  not  that  Conhlia  \\o.ild 
seize  tlie  first  opportunity  to  elope  with  a  fjtvoied  lover. 
Sir  Frederic,  on  the  other  hand,  who  distri.sted  all  man- 
kind, scarcely  relied  even  on  l)e  Lille*s  friendship,  and 
wished  to  involve  him  in  some  labyrinth  of  iiiiquity> 
wiiicli  should  render  their  interests  ijiseparal)le. 

During  these  macliinatiinis,  Altamont,  who  had  seen 
in  the  papers  an  .account  of  Valiancy's  marriage,  hut  was 
wholly  unsuspicious  of  liis  being  in  Ireland,  left  Killar- 
ney  to  proceed,  according  to  llaller's  directions,  to  his 
sequestered  retreat. 

Siuce  his  first  arrival  in  the  country  he  had  not  seen 
his  venerable  friend,  wiio  had  been  stationary  near  the 
lakes,  whilst  he  himself  had  visited  the  seite  of  his  fore- 
fathei's  by  Ballyshannon,  and  penetrated  to  the  remote 
region  of  Iveragh. 

He  liad  taken  his  departure  from  Killarncy  at  an  ear- 
ly hour,  and  with  the  assistance  of  a  guide,  who  had  been 
previously  sent  to  the  inn  for  the  occasion,  and  which 
was  an  expirienced  dog,  had  no  difficulty  in  discovering 
the  entrance  to  tlie  cottage,  which,  though  built  almost 
on  the  water  edge,  was  completely  screened  from  view 
by  a  rampart  of  jjrojecting  clifts.  His  faithful  sctti.t,  who 
belonged  to  the  cottage,  eager  to  return  home,  clamber- 
ed up  the  rock,  and  struck  into  tlie  little  shelvini.!;  path 
which  led  to  this  retired  <lweliing.  Hailer  a])pt  arod 
resting  on  a  rock  before  the  house  ;  one  hand  cressed 
on  ids  breast,  the  other  supporting  his  venerable  head. 
His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  ground  :  he  raised  thcns  at  Al- 
tamont's  approach  :  they  were  glistening  with  tears. 

"  You  arc  welcome,  my  yourg  friend  ;  I  cannot  say, 
indeed,  witlj  Joy,  for  of  that  sensation  I  am  no  longer 
capable,  but  with  satisfaction  and  afTection,  !"ince  onr 
separation,  I  have  parted  from  the  only  being  to  whose 
mind  I  could  refer  for  the  register  of  my  own  past  recol- 


'! 


.▼AXSINOBE. 


Wtions  :  lic  was  a  remnant  of  myself — my  coeval — ^thc 
suiviver  of  my  youth.  These  are  tiic  last  drops  of  na- 
ture :  to-day,  I  can  only  think  of  him  ;  to-morrow,  we 
wiil  talk  of  other  things."  He  then  conducted  him  to 
the  house,  the  entrance  to  which  was  by  a  window,  reach- 
ing' fi(>m  lop  to  boUom,  widcii  in  warm  weatlier  was 
Jeft  open,  a  lattice  being  let  down,  which  at  once  exclu- 
•ded  the  rain  and  auuiiited  the  air.  There  were  two 
rooms,  one  within  the  other,  on  the  ground  floor,  and 
^s  nmny  on  the  floor  above*  The  furniture  was  ex- 
tremely plain  and  simple  ;  but  Altainont  was  sur])rised 
to  observe  a  head  of  Christ,  by  Guido,  placed  by  one  of 
Kapiiael's  Madonas.  Haller  then  put  into  his  hands  a 
letter  he  had  received  from  Woodville,  who  from  the 
.deficiency  of  evidence  had  been  necessarily  liberated, 
and  had  embarked  with  his  family  for  Canada,  where  a 
email  appointment  had  been  procured  him  by  the  interest 
of  V  allancy.  In  tiiis  affecting  letter  he  took  an  ever- 
lasting leave  of  England,  in  which  he  could  no  longer 
Lope  to  enjo)'  an  unblemished  reputation. 

**  He  who  has  been  ai-raigncd  cannot  be  cleared  with- 
■out  a  public  trial,  and,  till  thus  absolved  of  delinquency, 
has  forfeited  all  pretensions  to  the  confulencc  of  his  coun- 
trymen. Farewell,  then,  to  my  dear  native  country,  of 
which  I  am  no  longer  worthy  to  be  called  the  son,  and 
in  which  my  children  must  be  disgraced  by  tlie  memory 
of  their  misguided  father!  Farewell  to  you,  my  gener- 
'jOUs  benefactor,  with  whom,  at  a  happier  season,  1  should 
have  been  proud  to  hold  communion,  but  whom  I  could 
not  now  meet  without  the  anguish  of  reproach  !  Let  not 
Altamont  suppose  I  can  ever  cease  to  cherish  his  re- 
membrance, though  I  scarcely  regret  having  been  spa- 
.red  that  solemn  parting  which  is  to  prove  eternal.  Never 
•iould  I  have  been  re-admitted  to  the  privileges  of  his 
friendship.  A  suspected  criminal  is  no  associate  for 
upright  honorable  men  ;  any  coalition  with  my  dishon- 
ored name  would  sully  l.is  unblemished  reputation.  1  am 
a  weed  which  must  be  rooted  from  society  ;  1  have  been 
a  brand  plucked  from  the  flames,  and  am  now  moulder- 
ing in  silence  and  oblivion.    In  my  wife  and  my  chil- 


U 


VALSINORE,  2it 

dren  I  still  possess  objects  of  tender  endearment.  May 
I  but  live  to  secure  peace  to  the  one,  and  to  lay  the 
fomidation  ui  respectability  for  the  other!  May  I  but 
guard  them  from  the  errors  on  which  1  was  wrecked ! 
May  I  but  piT.ser\e  them  from  that  too  sensible  pore  ot* 
feeling,  that  resll(ss  imagination,  by  which  my  princi- 
ples were  undermined,  my  irason  perverted,  my  peace 
and  integrity  destroyed,  and  I  shall  not  have  lived  in 
vain  !  I  shall  perhaps  die  w  itb  the  sweet  consolation 
that  my  sons  are  malting  a  haj)py  voyage,  though  theil* 
father  w  as  fatally  shipwrecked  !" 

Altamont  was  dee})ly  affected  by  the  pernsal  of  this 
letter;  ahd  whilst  Ualler  was  engaged  iii  looking  over 
some  papers  committed  to  his  care  by  his  late  friend^ 
he  left  the  cottage,  and  took  a  ramble,  exploring  thft 
beauties  of  the  lake.  It  will  easily  be  divined  to  what 
point  his  fancy  was  attracted  by  this  delicious  landscape 
—the  thoughts  of  Cordelia  •,  no  other  object  was  w ant- 
ing to  i-ender  this  romantic  spot  a  paradise.  After  hav- 
ing gazed  long  on  the  majestic  sweep  of  mountains^ 
wliose  deepening  shadows  wei-e  reflected  on  the  smooth 
translucent  lake,  he  was  suddenly  attracted  by  a  little 
Hylvan  path,  closely  fenced  by  the  delicate  ash  and  sil- 
very birch,  w  hilst  the  crimson  blossoms  of  the  x\rbutus 
spread  luxuriantly  along  the  cliff.  He  turned  into  this 
imibrageous  path,  and  beheld,  instead  of  the  capacious 
lake,  a  serpentizing  stream,  a  river,  or  rather  a  rivu- 
let, flowing  under  the  base  of  the  towering  cliflT,  and 
forming  between  its  wooded  banks  a  little  sheltered  bay, 
Altamont  paused  with  delight  on  this  scene  of  seclusion, 
when  suddenly  he  heard  a  strain  of  music,  which  should 
seem  to  have  been  wafted  thither  by  erichantment.  Ho 
listened  in  delicious  amazement,  when  suddenly  the 
sweeps  of  the  measured  oar  fell  on  his  ear,  and  he  per- 
ceived, as  shooting  from  the  woods,  an  elegant  barge, 
with  its  gaudy  pennon  and  sprightly  company,  followed 
by  a  smaller  boat,  from  whence  issued  sounds  of  delight- 
ful music.  Altanmnt,  though  himsell'  concealed,  had  a 
distinct  view  of  the  party ;  but  what  was  his  emotion 
when  he  beheld  first  his  friend  Valiancy,  and  then;  aeat- 

V 


//  VAXSIXORE. 

A  between  De  Lille  and  Sir  Fi'ederic  Mowbray,  his 
Cordelia !  He  scarcely  breatlied  or  moved  for  astonish- 
ment, and  anxiously  strained  his  sight  to  take  another 
and  another  glance.  But  the  first  moment  of  joy  was 
cruelly  alloyed  by  jealousy  ;  and  rushing  from  the  spot^ 
he  hastened  back  to  the  cottage  to  impart  his  discovery 
to  Hallcr,  who  gravely  answered,  «♦  It  is  true  ;  1  find 
they  have  been  some  days  in  the  ncighborliood  ?" 

«  And  is  she  married,  or  engaged  ?"  cried  Altamont. 
«  Not  married,  surely  ?'* 

"  [  know  no  more  at  present,  but  shall  hope  to  see 
her  to-morrow." 

«  To-morrow  !"  echoed  Altamont,  whose  eyes  seem- 
ed to  add,  "  and  why  not  to-day  ?"  Haller  noticed  not 
his  emotion ;  he  was  writing  something  by  which  he 
seemed  deeply  affected.  Altamont  turning  away,  inter- 
nally exclaimed,  <♦  He  was  right  when  he  said  there 
could  he  no  friendship  between  youth  and  age,  for  there 
is  no  sympathy." 

Though  no  longer  capable  of  relishing  the  beauties  of 
nature,  he  continued  to  wander  on  the  margin  of  the 
lake.  A  variety  of  vessels  was  exhibited  on  the  water ; 
many  of  them  were  destined  for  Innisfallen,  which  is 
the  fairy  region  of  love  and  pleasure.  The  Vallancys 
were  to  dine  in  the  grove  of  ash  trees  which  sliade  the 
ruins  of  the  abbey  ;  from  thence,  till  the  evening,  they 
'were  to  wander  in  little  social  groups,  witli  a  promise  of 
Te-assembliug  for  the  dance  in  the  ivy -covered  oratory 
that  overtops  the  cliff.  Ignorant  of  this  arrangement, 
Altamont  repeatedly  climbed  the  highest  bank  of  the 
peninsula,  poring  through  his  pocket  telcsco])e,  with  the 
hope  of  descrying  the  barge  on  its  return.  After  repeat- 
ed disap{)ointments,  he  began  to  relinquish  expectation, 
but  he  still  mechanically  hovered  near  the  spot  from 
"whence  he  had  snatched  that  momentary  glimpse  of 
Cordelia. 

It  was  now  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  dark  volumi- 
nous shadows  were  falling  from  the  mountains,  when 
suddenly  a  white  cloud  appearing  in  the  horizon,  their 
lofty  summits  were  wrapt  in  a  mist  of  darkness  j  a  tre- 


VALSINORE.  2*3 

mendous  clap  of  thunder  reverberated  from  the  hollow 
cliff's,  the  watx'rs  of  the  lake  were  a.fijitatcd :  the  white 
spray  mountinj;^  over  the  flood,  which  presented  the 
mimic  \vaves  and  billows  of  the  ocean.  Altamont,  who 
had  so  hnisj  wished  fur  the  appearance  of  the  barj^e,  now 
rejoiced  in  its  absence  ;  still  lie  looked  with  a  sort  of  un- 
easy solicitude  towards  the  lake,  and  was  struck  with 
the  perilous  position  of  a  little  skift',  which  contained 
but  three  persons  :  a  gentleman,  a  lady,  and  tiie  row- 
er, who  had  imprudently  diminished  the  labors  of  the 
oar,  by  extending  his  flimsy  sail.  Though  tossed  on 
the  flood,  the  boat  seemed  still  capable  of  preserving  its 
balance,  till  it  came  near  the  one-arched  bridge  on 
which  he  stood;  here  the  current  becoming  stnniger, 
the  gentleman  tore  down  the  sail,  and  by  that  move- 
ment overset  the  boat.  Altamont,  wlio  had  anticipa- 
ted its  fate,  and  confided  in  his  skill  in  swimming,  pre- 
cipitated himself  from  the  parapet,  grasped  the  lady's 
robe,  and  continued  to  draw  her  towards  the  shore.  He 
at  length  bore  her  to  a  little  cove  into  which  a  fisherman 
had  just  pushed  his  skilf  for  shelter ;  he  desired  the  man 
to  row  to  the  assistance  of  the  other  sufferers,  whilst  he 
supported  his  senseless  charge  towards  the  cottage. 

Hitherto  he  had  only  ftdlowed  the  dictates  of  lunnani- 
ty.  The  lady's  long  dishevelled  tresses  Avere  spread 
over  her  face,  and  completely  disguised  her  features ; 
but  in  removing  this  matted  veil,  he  discovered,  almost 
incredulously,  the  countenance  of  Cordelia.  His  agita- 
tion, on  this  discovery,  almost  deprived  him  of  the  pow- 
er to  make  any  efibrts  for  her  assistance  ;  happily,  how- 
ever, he  met  with  the  male  domestic  of  the  cottage,  with 
whose  assistance  she  was  soon  sheltered  under  its  quiet 
roof;  where  the  old  housekeejier,  under  Haller's  direc- 
tions, pursued  the  proper  means  for  hei"  recovery. 

She  had  been  thrown  into  this  perilous  state  by  the 
imprudence  of  De  Lille,  who  had  persuadecriier  to  steal 
with  him  from  the  paity  at  Innisfallen,  un<ler  the  })re- 
tcxt  of  proceeding  imnjediately  on  their  intend<'d  journc}'. 
He  Uim\  laid  s-ich  stress  on  this  point,  that  she  became 
anxious  to  fulfil  his  wishes  ;  and,  not  doubting  that  the 

V2 


/ 


VAXSINORE. 


icys  would  easily  for«j:ive  this  clandestine  move- 
_.  oj  when  they  know  by  what  motive  it  was  dictated, 
she  eagerly  assented  to  his  proposal  of  enga(2;ing  a  little 
boat,  which  had  been  plying  round  the  island,  to  trans- 
port t)»em  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake. 

The  execution  of  the  plan  was  facilitated  by  the  party 
having  dispersed  in  various  groups  through  tlie  island ; 
and  De  Lille  and  his  daughter  Iiad  been  long  absent  be- 
fore they  were  missed  by  any  of  the  company  except  Sir 
Frederic  Mowbray,  whose  duplicity  was  sufficiently  pu- 
nished, during  the  storm,  by  the  tortures  of  suspense. 
Unable  to  suffer  in  silence,  he  imparted  his  suspicions  of 
Dc  Lille's  elopement ;  and  as  soon  as  the  elements  were 
cleared,  embarked  in  the  smaller  vessel,  in  pursuit  of 
the  deserters. 

On  arriving  at  Mucruss,  he  found  De  Lille,  who,  by 
clinging  to  the  keel  of  the  boat,  had  floated  towards  the 
narrow  channel  communicating  with  the  inner  lake, 
where,  by  grasping  some  branches  of  birch  and  ash,  he 
kad  gained  the  shore  in  safety. 

The  boatman,  whose  senses  had  been  previously  dull- 
ed by  libations  of  whiskey,  had  swam  across  tlie  lake ; 
but  no  traces  were  discovered  of  Cordelia.  De  Lille 
fancied  he  had  seen  a  person  leap  from  tlie  bridge  to  her 
assistance  j  but  the  impression  was  vague  and  unsatis- 
factory, and  he  fully  participated  with  his  coadjutor  in 
the  torments  of  shame  and  suspense,  of  terror  and  re- 
morse. 


CHAPTER    XXXIIL 

IT  was  long  before  Cordelia  gave  any  signs  of  re- 
turning animation  ;  by  degrees  she  began  to  have  a  most 
painful  consciousnCvSg  of  existence :  every  object  swam 
before  her ;  she  fj'.neied  slie  was  in  a  cabin,  and  open- 
ing her  eyes,  looked  around  for  imaginary  \vav(  s.  A 
cup  was  presented  to  her  lips,  of  which  she  tasted,  and 


VAtSlNORE.  245 

then  sunk  into  a  heavj-  slumber.  On  awakin.a;,  she  ob- 
served a  venerable  form,  familiar  to  her  eyes,  though 
the  name  liad  escaped  her  remembrance  ;  she  was  again 
lulled  asleep,  and  awoke  nonioretill  the  morning,  when 
she  was  so  perfectly  recovered  as  to  have  a  distinct  re- 
collection of  what  had  befallen  her  ;  and  observing  an 
old  woman  sitting  on  a  cliair  by  her  bed-side,  slie  asked 
for  her  clothes,  and  became  extremely  importunate  to 
leave  her  apartment.  The  housekeeper,  wlx)  being  Flem- 
ish, was  by  no  means  familiar  with  the  English  lan- 
guage, instantly  called  in  llallcr,  who,  having  quieted 
her  apprehensions  for  her  father's  safety,  promised  to 
gratify  her  curiosity,  when  she  should  join  him  at  break- 
fast. Her  drenched  garments  had  been  dried  by  the 
housekeeper's  care,  and  she  soon  descended  to  the  par- 
lor, where  she  found  only  Ilaller,  who  thus  addressed 
her :  "  From  your  astonishment  on  meeting  me,  I  should 
almost  conclude  you  were  ignorant  of  my  having  been  in 
this  country,  yet  your  father  met  me  the  other  evening  in 
Mucruss  Abbey." 

«  Good  heavens  !  were  you,  then,  the  solitary  mourn- 
er ?  did  you  follow  the  recluse  to  the  grave  x" 

"  1  did,  Cordelia.  In  returning  to  tlie  church-yard 
I  met  your  father,  and  announced  my  intention  of  see- 
ing yon  in  a  few  d.ays.  In  reply  he  gave  me  an  inform- 
ation, at  which  I  was  somewhat  surprised,  that  you 
wei*e  on  the  eve  of  marriage  j  I  presume,  with  Sir  Fred- 
eric Mowbiay." 

*^  Impossible  !  could  my  father  say  so  ?  impossible  ! 
Ilis  news,  then,  was  premature  ;  lie  deceived  you.  Sir." 

*'  You,  perhaps,  deceived  yourself;  you  may  not 
know  how  much  your  affections  are  engaged." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  I  feel  1  shall  never  be  the  wife  of 
Sir  Frederic  Mowbray." 

<•  Well,  well,  let  us  drop  the  subject.  When  did  you 
see  Altamont  ?" 

«  It  is  long,  indeed." 

**  Wlicu  did  you  hear  of  him." 
V3 


VALSINOUE, 

J 

«  Tliat  too  is  loiij;.  lie  is  dead  to  us  all  j  he  has  re* 
nounceil  our  fi'londsiiip." 

•'  Have  you  then  lioard  nolhini^  of  him  ?" 

"  Nothing,  hilt  that  ho  eorrcsimndod  with  one  Mrs. 
"Woodville.     1  know  not  who  she  is." 

«  1  do  ;  that  coirespondenee  does  him  honor/' 

<*  'Tv\  as  all  calumny,  then,"  exclaimed  she,  half  rising 
from  her  seat ;  "  my  heart  told  me  he  was  incapaUe  of 
baseness." 

"  I  will  confide  to  you  one  secret  respecting  him, 
Cordelia.  He  has  just  won  my  eternal  gratitude,  hy 
preserving  your  life." 

«'  Was  it  he  ?  Then  my  life  shall  ever  be  precious  for 
his  sake." 

Here  Altamont,  who  had  been  purposely  placed  with- 
in the  inner  room,  rusliing  from  concealment,  threw 
himself  before  Cordelia,  who  shrieked  witli  surprise  ; 
and  leaning  back  on  Haller,  concealed,  under  the  air  of 
terror,  her  excess  of  joy  and  tenderness.  "  Compose 
yourself,  my  child,"  cried  Haller,  "  and  I  will  soon  re- 
jnove  your  perplexity." 

After  some  time  passed  in  mutual  expressions  of  de- 
light, from  the  pleasuse  of  an  intercourse  so  painfully 
regretted,  and  so  unexpectedly  renewed,  Cordelia  called 
«pon  Haller  for  the  promised  explanation. 

'f  You  remember,"  said  the  venerable  sage  ;  <*  I  left 
in  your  hands  the  manuscript  of  Cornelius ;  and  I  doubt 
not  you  have  both  grieved  for  his  many  sorrows.  The 
manuscript  put  into  my  hands  by  Altamont,  was  mere- 
ly a  manuel  of  monastic  devotion  ;  that  which  I  left  with 
you,  as  its  substitute,  contained  my  own  history.  I 
was  once  that  Cornelius.  Your  father,  Altamont,  was- 
my  kinsman.  I,  too,  was  that  Valsinore,  who  endeav- 
ored to  I'epair,  by  present  kindness,  former  injustice." 

Exclamations  of  wonder   burst   from  his   auditors; 
«nd  both  enquired,  at  the  same  moment,  who  then  was' 
the  Valsinore  who  lived  here  so  lately. 

«  That  you  shall  soon  hear.     The  name  of  Valsinore^ 
3iad  often  been  assumed  by  my  friend  Albert  in  his  youth , 
W^it  wftS;  {>erh^pB;  front  some  associatioja  with 


VAXSINORK.  247 

memory,  that  I  was  induced  to  annex  that  sip,nattire  to 
the  letter  I  left  with  your  widowed  mother.  1  had  previ- 
ously borne  a  Frcneh  name  ;  on  my  return  to  Germany 
I  exchan,a;ed  it  for  Uallcr,  hy  which  1  have  ever  since 
heen  known.  On  my  first  ai  rival  in  Europe  1  liad  re- 
solved not  to  make  any  enquiries  respectint?  n)y  own  or 
Susanna's  family,  lest  I  should  relapse  into  that  dr<  a'iful 
state  from  which  1  iiad  been  so  lately  restoroci.  Many 
years  had  elapsed  i  and  I  was,  in  many  respeets,  become 
a  new  bein£?,  when  I  accidentally  heard  of  Albert's  do- 
mestic misfortunes  :  his  wife  had  proved  unfaithful ;  his 
daughter  had  eloped  with  an  adventurer;  he  had  re- 
nounced his  country,  and,  haviiii?  lodged  his  property  in 
the  Hamburgh  bank,  lived  in  total  seclusion  from  ti»e 
world.  By  his  annual  demands  on  this  bank  1  ascer- 
tained his  existence,  without  being  able  to  discover  his 
retreat.  It  was  from  Baron  Rouvigny  1  first  learnt  that 
lie  had  a  grand-daughter  not  unwortliy  to  claim  ailinity 
with  my  Susanna.  To  see  you,  therefore,  Cordelia,  was 
one  of  my  motives  for  visiting  England  ;  and  my  s«de 
inducement  for  cultivating  your  father's  acquaintance. 
From  your  account  of  the  monkish  manusci-ipt,  1  con- 
jectured that  Albert  might  have  been  the  person  who 
had  assumed  the  name  of  Valsinore  ;  and  that,  instead 
of  having  perished  in  the  Avalanche,  he  had  selected 
some  other  place  of  retirement. 

*<  Pursuing  this  hint  on  my  return  to  Germany,  I 
learnt,  from  my  banker,  that  Sir  John  Mordaunt  was 
certainly  living  in  Ireland,  but  by  what  name  was  un* 
known.  I  soon  after  learnt  of  a  recluse  near  Killarney^ 
whose  unsocial  habits  corresponded  with  the  account  I 
had  received  of  Albert.  It  was  to  pursue  this  hint  that 
I  arrived  in  this  romantic  country.  1  had  in  my  possess- 
ion a  short-hand  copy  of  the  history  I  had  left  at  Beach- 
dale,  written  in  the  character  I  had  been  accustomed 
to  employ  with  Albert  in  my  youth.  I  connected  it  with 
the  monkish  manuscript  I  had  received  from  Altamont, 
and  prepared  to  explore  his  lonely  dwelling.  Happily, 
however,  on  the  same  day  1  went  to  the  church  at  Mu- 
Gruss;  where  it  was  whispered  tliat  the  strange  man  w^ 


Y 

YALSIKORE. 

i 

*  perform  liis  devotions.  I  kept  my  eyes  fixed 
jvi  this  object  ;  but  though  I  htid  before  tried  to  imagine 
all  the  alterations  which  time  might  have  produced,  1  was 
shocked  to  find  myself  unable  to  discern  one  vestige  of 
Albert's  countenance.  After  the  service  1  followed  his 
steps,  and  took  the  opportunity,  whilst  he  was  distribu- 
ting alms  to  some  poor  children,  to  ask  if  he  could  direct 
me  where  to  find  a  pei'son  of  the  name  of  Valsinore.  Ho 
hesitated  at  the  question,  but  at  length  asked  my  busi- 
ness :  I  stated,  that  I  had  certain  papers  to  surrender 
to  his  possession.  He  looked  perplexed,  and  yet  invited 
nie  to  attend  him  home. 

"  In  the  way  we  conversed  on  various  subjects,  but  his 
observations  were  always  tinged  with  misanthropy. 
When  he  heard  that  I  was  a  solitary,  unconnected  stran- 
ger, be  regarded  me  with  more  complacency.  When  I 
accidentally  mentioned  my  hirth-day,  w  hich  was  within 
three  days  of  his  ow  n,  he  exclaimed,  <  Then  we  came 
into  the  world  nearly  at  the  same  moment.'  Observing 
the  satisfaction  he  derived  from  this  passive  sympathy, 
I  intimated  that  I  had  known  many  heavy  calamities,  but 
was  restored  to  tranquillity ;  he  shook  his  head,  and 
coldly  answered,  there  were  some  wounds  never  to  be 
healed.  When  we  reached  his  cottage,  he  invited  me  in 
liomely  language  to  take  refreshments.  I  was  again 
alarmed  by  the  idea  that  it  could  not  be  Albert,  who  liad 
heen  always  remarkable  for  elegance  and  courtesy.  Not 
to  offend,  however,  I  accepted  his  offer  ;  and,  at  parting, 
had  an  invitation  to  repeat  my  visit.  I  returned  on  the 
next  day,  and  for  many  succeeding  ones,  and  thus  made 
with  him,  by  degress,  a  new  acquaintance  :  at  length 
speaking  of  Switzerland,  I  mentioned  the  manuscript 
in  my  possession,  as  belonging  to  a  person  of  his  name, 
and  put  into  his  hands,  with  the  monkish  manuel,  the 
history  of  my  own  adventures.  He  fixed  his  eyes  on 
the  latter,  exclaiming,  *  I  should  know  this  character,  I 
have  still  the  key.'  He  unlocked  a  cabinet,  from  which 
he  drew  out  a  folio,  with  the  help  of  which  he  began  read- 
ing my  manuscript.  I  stole  out  of  the  room  unperceived, 
«ttrprised  at  my  own  strong  emotions  :    it  seemed  al^^ ' 


..^ 


VALSINOR-B  249 

mostbcyojid  my  faith  to  conceive  the  possibility  of  har- 
iiii^  met  with  one  so  n^^arly  i-elated  to  Susanna.  At  loni^h 
I  arose,  and  rcturninja;  to  the  room,  behchi  him,  with  his 
eyes  full  of  tears,  alternately  looking  at  the  manuscript 
and  a  ininiatare  he  held  in  his  liand.  On  secin.a:  me  he 
started,  and,  in  a  tone  of  disjjlcasure,  said,  *  And  pray. 
Sir.  who  are  you  ?*  At  tiiat  moment  he  had  dropt  the 
miniature,  which  I  hastily  picked  up,  and  beheld  a  pic- 
tui'c  of  my  wife,  taken  in  early  life.  I  ould  not  now 
answer  his  question,  1  could  only  articulate  Susanna  ; 
by  that  name  was  our  negociation  made ;  and  we  sccm- 
•d  mutually  restored  to  tlie  affections  of  our  youth.** 

Here  Haller  paused,  but  checking  his  emotion,  pro^ 
ceeded  ;  "  To  be  brief,  I  discovered  that  he  had  wished 
for  this  meeting ;  we  determined  not  to  separate  ;  we 
even  ventured  to  form  a  plan  for  futurity  ;  you  know 
how  suddenly  this  has  been  reversed.  Previous  to  his 
death,  he  had  made  a  new  will. 

«  But  here,  Cordelia,  1  must  frankly  confess,  that  I 
have  failed  to  obviate  his  scruples  respecting  his  vow  : 
he  has  left  his  whole  property  to  another  ;  on  one  con- 
dition, however,  that  you  should  marry  his  heir.*'  Cor- 
delia started.  Altamont  threw  an  anxious  glance  on 
Haller,  who  contin  ;ed  ;  '*  And  I  confess,  1  trust  you 
will  not  refuse  to  ratify  this  compact." 

Cor(h'lia  had  raised  her  eyes  in  wonder :  but  they 
were  cast  down  in  tender  conTision.  When  he  added, 
"  For  your  love  is'  due  to  him,  who  has  preserved  your 
life.'* 

Here  Altamont  protested  he  would  not  nsurp  Corde- 
lia's rights.  But  she  recovering  from  her  first  amaze- 
ment, declared,  it  was  an  act  of  Justice.  Haller,  delight- 
ed with  tlieir  contest,  Joining  their  hands,  exclaimed, 
**  My  children,  your  hearts  have  latificd  tlie  compact  5 
and  let  the  last  wishes  of  I  he  dead  be  sacred." 

Cordelia  made  a  gentle  effort  to  witlniiaw  her  hand  : 
but  it  was  ohslinately  resisted  ;  and  she  tacitly  acqui- 
esced in  the  sentence.  But  when  Haller  was  leaving  the 
room,  uu  longer  al)le  to  restrain  tl;e  feelings  recalled  by 
memory,  she  cast  nn  him  a  wistful  glance,  as  if  she  would 


VALSIXOnE. 

^'e  deprecated  his  desertion.  At  that  moment  tiio 
latticed  door  was  pushed  open,  and  Sir  Frederic  Mow- 
bray rushed  into  the  room  exclaiming,  *♦  You  shall  kill 
me  first."  Terrified  for  Altamont,  she  tlirew  herself 
before  l>im,  as  if  to  implore  the  Baronet  to  withdraw. 
"When  frantic  with  rage,  he  discharged  his  pistol,  and 
she  fell  back  senseles  on  the  couch,  supported  by  Alta- 
mont. "  What  have  I  done  !"  cried  Sir  Frederic,  "  take 
my  life  !  I  am  a  villain  !"  At  that  moment  the  venera- 
ble Haller,  issuing  from  the  other  apartment,  arrested 
his  hand,  which  was  now  raised  against  liis  own  exist-: 
encc — ♦'  Unhappy  man,  what  pbrenzy  is  this  ?"  Luck- 
ily De  Lille  and  Valiancy,  wl»o  had  both  watched  his 
steps,  now  entered  the  apartment,  and  forced  him  from 
the  scene,  on  which  he  had  committed  such  atrocious 
violence.  He  had  been  prompted  to  this  desperation,  by 
hearing  from  the  fishermen,  who  had  assisted  Altamont 
in  carrying  Cordelia  to  the  cottage,  tliat  she  had  been 
preserved  by  a  young  man,  whom  he  instantly  divined 
to  be  his  rival.  At  this  news  he  snatched  up  his  pistols 
— was  rowed  across — clambered  up  the  bank,  and  stole 
to  the  latticed  door,  where  he  heard  enough  of  Haller's 
relation  to  be  satisfied  that  he  had  nothing  to  hope  for. 
Possessed  with  fury,  aTid  resolving  that  Altamont  should 
fight  for  her,  he  ruslied  into  the  apartment.  The  sud- 
den impulse  of  tenderness  betrayed  by  Cordelia,  inflan»ed 
his  rage ;  he  was  no  longer  a  rational  being ;  and  till  he 
saw  her  fall,  apparently  deprived  of  life,  was  only  sensi- 
ble to  the  suggestions  of  passion.  He  was  at  length  con- 
veyed from  the  house,  whilst  De  Lille,  amost  equally  dis- 
tressed, eagerly  dispatched  half  a  dozen  messengers  for 
medical  assistance.  Cordelia,  still  senschss,  lay,  with 
her  head  reclined  on  Altamont's  bosom,  till  Haller  ta- 
king her  hand,  exclaimed — '•  Yet  the  pulse  beats,  and 
no  hlood  flows!  where  is  the  wound?  At  this  moment 
she  opened  her  languid  eyes  ;  and  he  discovered  that  it 
was  indeed  but  an  ideal  wound  ;  Uie  ball  having  just 
misso'i  her  head,  passed  under  tlie  couch,  and  wiiS  at 
lerg  li  obsei'ved  on  the  floor.  The  surprise  and  terror 
occasioned  by  Sii'  Frederic's  sudden  appeai'ance,  had 


YALSmOBE.  251 

oau«(ed  her  being  seized  with  that  fainttiess  whicli  pro- 
dtiCrts  the  very  image  of  death.  Altamont,  long  incred- 
ulous, again  and  again  extorted  the  ass'trance  that  she 
was  not  hurt.  Cordelia,  at  length  extending  her  hand, 
softly  sai(' — "  Ti'ust  me  at  least  for  the  sake  of  our  com- 
pact, and  do  not  let  that  unhappy  man  iniinagine  he  has 
committed  murder."  In  a  short  time,  however,  it  ap- 
peare<l,  that  the  medical  assistance  procured  by  De  liillo 
was  ni>t  unnecessary.  The  agitatioji  of  her  spirits  liad 
completely  disordered  her  ft  ame  ;  and  in  a  few  iioiirs, 
she  was  in  a  high  fever,  wliidi  for  some  da>s  m<  tiaced 
her  exist:  nee.  Dtii  ing  this  anxious  iu(<  rval.  Oe  Lillo 
and  Valiancy  pjvvaihfl  on  !Sir  F'rederic  to  witiid*  aw  to 
Franc<' ;  an.!  in  his  co  >U'r  moments,  ho  was  not  equally 
eager  t<«  jart  fi'»m  existence.  lie  cons-  ntid  to  travel, 
and  thus  .seaiHM!  the  pdin  ;)f  hearing  of  Cordelia's  union 
witli  anotljer.  Cor«h>lia  was  reniovt'd  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble to  Gn  cnliill,  where  Mrs.  Valiancy,  prrfrctly  ap- 
prized of  the  obliquity  of  Sir  Frederic's  conduct, 
heartily  felicitattd  her  friend  on  her  firmness,  and 
gave  a  most  fricndl\  reception  to  Altamont ;  who 
was  cordi  iMy  reconciled  to  her  husband.  De  Lille, 
ashamed  of  his  late  an  ifice,  n.)  sooner  saw  his  daughter 
restored  to  hea!*h,than  he  quitted  Ireland,  went  abroad, 
visitfd  Germany,  and  having  at  length  obtained  the  title 
of  Baroti  from  the  Emperor,  finally  settled  in  thatcountry. 
Altamont,  at  the  suggestion  of  Haller,  purchased  the 
ftimily-estates,  and  the  seat  of  his  father  on  the  banks 
of  the  Shannon.  Haller  himself  consented  to  occupy  an 
apartment  in  Ibis  mansion.  On  the  day  that  Cordelia 
became  his  mistress,  her  venerable  uncle  said  to  Alta- 
mont, "  I  trust  you  will  prove  yourself  worthy  of  your 
happiness.  You  once  wished  yourself  a  Roman  :  believe 
me  the  Briton  possesses  a  much  nobler  name.  You 
once  repined  at  finding  so  little  scope  for  enthusiasm  ; 
be  assured  t!ie  age  you  live  in,  will  command  the  reve- 
rence of  posterity.  I  have  lived  long  enough  to  measure 
the  progress  of  improvement.  Had  the  same  liberal 
spirit  prevailed  in  my  youth,  I  had  never  been  an  alien 
from  my  native  country  i  bad  the  same  establishment 


/. 


/  VALSINORE. 

/ibr  education  then  existed,  I  had  never  imbibed  the  pre- 
judict'S  wiiic/i  proved  so  fatal  to  my  tranquillity,  if  you 
would  be  a  true  patii)t,  you  must  be  a  philanthropist., 
In  diffusinii;  knowledge  and  benevoKnee  ;  in  promoting 
habits  of  activity  and  virtue;  in  giving  lessons  of  mo- 
rality, and  examples  of  liappiness,  you  will  at  once  ex- 
alt tlie  honor  of  your  own  country,  and  the  dignity  of 
the  human  race.  You  will  equally  establish  your  claims 
to  the  character  if  a  Briton,  and  a  friend  to  the  best 
interests  of  mankind. 


^  From  tlie  period  of  his  marriage,  Altamont,  dismiss*, 
ii^  those  reveries  of  fancy,  in  which  he  had  wasted  so. 
many  precious  years  of  youth,  became  a  zealous  advo- 
cate for  useful  pursuits,  and  both  in  public  and  private 
life,  discharged  his  duties  to  the  community.  His  resi-"* 
dence  was  fixed  in  Ireland  ;  for  in  reclaiming  the  honors 
of  his  house,  he  did  not  desert  the  father-land  to  which 
he  owed  them.  His  winters  were  spent  in  Dublin,  but, 
in  the  summer,  his  house  was  the  seat  of  hospitality. 
Neither  his  mother  nor  Mr.  Bruce  could  be  pei'suaded 
to  leave  Switzerland ;  but  Mrs.  Winifred,  with  her 
favorite  Aleck,  found  a  happy  asylum  near  the  grateful 
Altamont;  Celiu  Gladwin  became  his  constant  guest, 
and,  in  the  contemplation  of  real  happiness,  almost  for- 
got ^the  dreams  of  fancy. 

Haller  transferred  his  fund  of  charity  to  his  native 
country,  establishing  schools,  i-nproving  agriculture, 
proui  jting  the  best  interests  of  the  community.  He  lived 
to  Witness  tlie  assembling  of  two  families,  in  the  children 
of  Valiancy  and  Altamtmtj  and  to  welcome  Woodville's 
sons,  wiio,  at  his  suggestion,  were  sent  to  Europe  for 
education.  On  such  occasions,  Halh'r  was  restored  to 
th  sensibilities  of  youth ;  he  examined  the  countenan- 
ces of  the  children,  and  gave  to  each  a  paternal  benedic- 
tion— «  Oh  !  ha3)py  beings,"  cried  he,  "  to  have  been 
bom  in  an  age  like  tins  ;  your  minds  will  never  imbibe 
the  ewois  wliich  embittered  my  life.    May  they  dis- 


VitSlNORE.  ^  l5& 


X 


charge  their  debt  of  patriotism  ami  humamty !  As  long 
as  there  shall  exist  one  prejiuliec  founded  on  selfish 
feclin.e;s,  to  narrow  tlic  sphere  of  usefulness  and  felicity, 
to  check  the  course  of  piety  and  benevolence,  mankind 
are  not  truly  civilized,  and  the  christian  is  disappointed, 
^vhilst  the  philosopher  is  unsatisfied." 

Ix  the  beloved  land  of  his  fatliers,  cnfihrined  in  the 
hearts  of  all  who  had  known,  or  who  have  heard  of  the 
excellence  of  this  discijde  of  virtue  and  philantropy,  the 
mortal  remains  of  the  venerable  Haller  now  peaceful- 
ly rest.  A  simple  stone,  with  the  following  inscription^ 
alone  attests  the  place  : 

Blest  be  this  spot  where  Hallkr  lies ; 

No  cloister'd  walls  to  guard  his  tomb ; 
'Tis  open  to  tl>e  changeful  skies, 

And  deck'd  with  Natui-c's  gayest  bloom. 
On  this  dear  shrine  no  tapers  burn. 

But  sun  and  stare  their  radiance  shed; 
And,  sweeter  than  the  incensM  urn, 

A  snow-white  shroud  the  lilies  spread : 
The  lark,  too  innocent  to  mourn, 

Chaunts  his  blithe  matin  to  the  dead. 

Blest  be  this  spot — 'twas  here,  that  last 

He  watch'd  the  slow  departing  sun  ; 
A  tender  wistful  glance  he  cast, 

As  thougli  lie  deem'd  his  race  was  run. 
That  eve,  as  i»i  the  social  hall 

He  took,  *mid  friends,  his  *custom'd  place, 
His  soul  to  eacb  o*erflow'd — on  all 

He  smil'd  with  venerable  grace  : 
He  seem'd  to  feel  the  whisper'd  call, 

And  Hope  shone  radiant  on  his  face. 

That  night,  when  all  unheard,  unseen, 
His  filial  prayer  to  Heaven  had  sped, 

(ClaspM  were  his  hands,  devout  his  mien) 
'Twas  then  the  immortal  spiiit  lied. 
W 


\         'I 

I  / 

Konc  heard  his  last,  his  niurmur'd  sighs. 
If  such  his  partina:  spirit  brf^ath'd. 

The  joy  of  lieav'n  was  in  th'^S"  eyes, 

That  peace  and  h)ve  to  earth  bequeathed. 

So  sweetly  was  UJ»  's  farewell  made^ 

His  debt  to  man  and  natiu'e  paid. 


THE  END. 


\ 


•-S^ 


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